


Welcome to My Nightmare

by Just_a_Girl_in_a_Crystal



Series: The Island of Misfit Toys and Broken Assassins [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Clint Barton, Kidnapping, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Red Room (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26724739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_a_Girl_in_a_Crystal/pseuds/Just_a_Girl_in_a_Crystal
Summary: There were many things the Avengers didn’t know about Natasha Romanoff. This was one of them. When the Red Room captures two Avengers, the rest of the team meet the real Black Widow.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark
Series: The Island of Misfit Toys and Broken Assassins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968727
Comments: 38
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on this site, first time posting anything in over a decade. Let me know if there are any problems (formatting, plot, etc). This will be more in line with the movies with liberties. Post CA/WS, but Bucky joined the Avengers after getting the triggers erased, not CACW compliant.

_(Welcome to my Nightmare, I think you’re gonna like it. I think you’re gonna feel like you belong - Alice Cooper)_  
~~

Clint was grabbed first. He didn’t live full time with the Avengers and had a fairly active life outside of them to include SHIELD missions and various volunteer efforts for youth and foster care/orphanage. Just because he didn’t have a good time there, doesn’t mean they were all bad. And, although he tried not to dwell too much, it was possible the orphanage wasn’t as bad as he thought. That he could have lived a very different and less pain filled life without major abandonment issues if he stayed. But then he’d hit the range for a couple of hours, pestered Tony at the lab and he would push such foolish notions aside.

It was a beautiful day out and he decided to take a shortcut through the park on his way to meet Natasha. He was on his way back from one of those group outings with the kids, feeling high as a kite when he heard crying nearby. Clint had two weaknesses: dogs and children. And maybe pizza. But you get the idea.

He moved off the path to find a young girl, maybe 8, with dirt skinned knees and a scraped elbow. Clint crouched down on her level. “Hey there,” he soothed. “My name is Clint. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The child’s bottom lip trembled but she seemed unwilling to speak. “That’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. Where are your parents?”

“I can’t find my mommy!” the little girl wailed, snuffling and swiping at the tears that continued to fall.

Clint frowned, looking around curiously. He didn’t see anyone looking frantically for a lost child. Everyone seemed… like they were right where they were supposed to be. Feeding the ducks, practicing yoga. No frantic mothers to be seen. “Where did you last see her?”

“Over by the boats.”

Clint frowned again, craning his neck over to the abandoned boathouse, closed for the season. It was quite a walk. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Layla,” she answered shyly.

“Layla,” Clint repeated warmly. “That’s a beautiful name. Ok, Layla, let’s see if we can find her. Can you walk?”

Layla shook her head, her sobs reduced to sniffles. “It hurts,” she said, holding onto her knee.

“That’s all right, I can carry you.” She looked hesitant. “It’s all right, you can trust me.” Layla still didn’t look convinced. “Say, Layla, have you heard about those superheroes?” She instantly brightened. “Well, it may not look it, but I’m one of them.”

Layla eyed him skeptically. “You don’t look like Captain America.”

Clint had to bite back a laugh, Tony would get a kick out of that. “No, I’m not Captain America. I’m Hawkeye.”

“The archer?”

“Exactly.” He pulled out his lucky arrowhead, the edges worn smooth over the years. It was the arrowhead that nearly took his life so many years ago on the dusty road from Carson’s. Clint handed the stone to the child.

Layla took the arrowhead reverently, examining it more meticulously than any adult he’d seen. She curled her small fingers around it. “Is it all right if I help you find your mommy?” At Layla’s slightly hesitant look, he continued. “You can hold on to that until we find her. That’s what I do when I’m feeling nervous.”

Layla smiled, nodding hard enough to cause her pigtail braids to bounce. Clint returned her smile and scooped Layla up in his arms, careful not to jostle her scraped knees. “So, Layla,” he began, trying to distract the child as he went along, “What does your mommy look like?”

Layla described her mother as very tall and beautiful and wearing a red dress. She continued chatting about her mother and what she liked to do for fun as Clint wound their way to the boathouse. The standard park sounds began to fade as they moved away from the well-traveled paths to the edge of the grounds. The sound of the water lapping at the bank replacing the shouts and barking dogs, becoming a soothing background noise as they walked.

As they neared the boathouse, there was still no sign of Layla’s mother. Or anyone. Clint felt a prick of unease at the base of his skull, unsure what to do with Layla if her mother wasn’t there. “Layla,” he asked distractedly, thumbing at his phone to call for help, “What’s your mommy’s first name?”

“Ah, The Famous Hawkeye!”

Clint froze, glancing up to see two men blocking his path. He could see the telltale bulge of pistols at their hips. Clint gripped Layla tighter to his body. Nothing good could come from this interaction. “I think you’ve got the wrong person…” He started stepping backwards, creating distance as fear chased up his spine. The smile the speaker gave him was anything but friendly.

“I don’t believe I do. I heard you’ve been looking for me. We have a… mutual friend.”

Clint stiffened, he didn’t recognize the man, but he had too many enemies with an ax to grind to figure who had a current vendetta. He hadn’t heard from Barney or the Swordsman recently. The knife at his back weighed heavy, but would take too much time to get to with Layla in one arm, his phone in the other. In normal circumstances, he would take these odds, but carrying a child…

“Why don’t we go somewhere we can chat?”

The backup henchman took a step closer and Clint pelted him with his phone, hitting directly between his eyes. He didn’t stay long enough to see the other man go down before fleeing.

Clint arranged Layla so he could press her against his chest, trying to provide as much cover for her as he took off in a dead sprint. He had to get Layla safe. He was so distracted he didn’t feel Layla reaching a skinny arm down to her side before extending it back up to his neck, not until the sharp bite of a needle pierced his skin. Clint instinctively reached up, feeling for what he assumed was a tranquilizer dart only to wrap his hands around a syringe.

His stride started to slow and falter, his brain skipping steps as he tried to process. By chance Clint’s eyes drifted down to the child in his arms – but no, it was not a fearful child’s face that greeted him, it was the hard eyes of a killer. The eyes were dull and Layla’s face was fixed with a stony look. “Lay –“ he tried, but the drug was quick. Too quick.

Clint staggered to a knee, unwilling to drop or harm the child still in his arms. She reached down and pulled at the arm wrapped around her, her tiny nails digging painfully into the skin. Clint released her, his mind swimming before she struck out at him, the arrowhead he gave her slashing out. It wasn’t a hard blow, but with his failing body, it did the trick. Clint toppled to the ground, his cheek bleeding slightly from the stone.

Blood roared in Clint’s ears, his vision darkened and his limbs deadened. He felt himself being rolled to his back, the same smug man grinning down at him, Layla glaring at his side. “People think our methods are barbaric, but, children really are the best weapons, once they are properly trained.”

The words circled around his brain, Clint knew they meant something to him, but he couldn’t put the pieces together. Couldn’t conjure the name.

“And when they are ready to leave the nest,” the man continued, “they make for the most loyal and lethal operatives.”

It clicked. The man, child operatives, the cold look in eyes framed by pigtails. The Red Room. Before Clint could say anything, before he could name his attacker, the darkness swallowed him and his body went limp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN – Red Room timeline is a little flexible, not cannon compliant or at least not delved into in this story. Not too long ago that all key players are elderly. This may change if I write more stories, but won’t impact the story. Also, implies killing children/children killing people (Red Room training children), but nothing is described, no children harmed.
> 
> This is 95% done. Everything is written, I’m just going back through final edits, tweaking and adding as I go. Plan is for weekly updates.

_(Welcome to my Nightmare, Welcome to my Breakdown. I hope I didn’t scare you. That’s just the way we are when we come down - Alice Cooper)_

Natasha glanced at her watch again. It was half past two. Clint, for all his failings and dunderhead traits, was rarely late. Especially not without some outlandish story explaining what happened. Her favorite had to be the bird that took off with his hat. She still had no idea how it happened, but also had no trouble picturing an outraged Clint chasing after the winged creature yelling obscenities and entreaties.

But the fact remained, Clint was late. And there was no word. And he was never this late. 

If it was anyone else, she would probably dismiss it. Tony and Bruce were infamous for getting lost in their work, Steve getting harassed or jumped by his legion of fans, Thor was off world (but if he weren’t he was easily distracted by things he was unfamiliar with), and Barnes… well, Barnes would have waited, ten minutes tops, after staking out the place early to ensure there wasn’t a set up. For some reason he had a hard time trusting Natasha, she smirked at the thought. She was pleased at the reputation, able to spark not quite fear, but wariness in the famed Winter Soldier. It showed her skills were still sharp as ever. He had acted the same way around Clint initially, now tolerating his antics once he realized the archer was stuck to him like a wart that can’t be removed. She empathized with Barnes, she tried to remove Barton before.

Natasha pulled up the tracker in Clint’s phone. They both had one for each other. Theirs was a… complex bond, but one they both were willing to kill to protect. The device showed to be at the park. This was near the group home Clint had been visiting…

Natasha paid her tab, checking her phone again, confirming there were no response to her texts, and tugged on her jacket. It was possible Clint simply lost track of time playing with the kids. Or maybe he lost his phone – doubtful, at least based on the lecture he gave her when ditching hers; they really needed to get the microchip trackers re-implanted. That was something they had done long before Shield but had to remove after its fall. Only Coulson and Fury had access to the frequency (besides Clint and herself, of course), but there was no way to know if Hydra had as well and would take advantage of it.

It was a cool fall day, still warm enough people were enjoying the sun and wandering about. It’s possible Clint fell asleep in the sun, his hearing aids broken and missing her myriad of texts and calls. Or he busted it chasing after a stray dog again.

As Natasha neared the location Clint’s phone pinged, she had to admit that her explanations were getting weaker. By the time she reached the abandoned boat shed, Natasha had donned the deadly hypervigilance of Black Widow and felt an icy chill nipping at her back.

The phone was on the backside of the boathouse, placed on a bench along with Clint’s lucky arrowhead, tinged with dark red blood. A note scrawled in matching color on the wall:

**YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE OUR REACH**

There was no signature, but none was needed. It seems some fool has decided to revive the Red Room, or at least its grudge. Some people are slow learners. No matter, she will make sure no one forgets what happens when you mess with the Black Widow. They made her and they will soon remember why she was their best trained operative.

Natasha Romanoff did not panic. She did not know the meaning of the word. Natasha Romanoff made plans. Violent, bloody, excruciating revenge plans. Whoever took Hawkeye would pay dearly.

++++++++++++++++++++

Natasha considered her options as she pocketed Clint’s phone and charm. She had only ever taken on the Red Room with Clint at her side. And this time, they would be prepared for her, expecting her. Natasha could not ask the Avengers, their aversion to doing what needed to be done would only hamper her efforts. With the exception of maybe Barnes, they were too skittish with some of the more necessary actions that are sometimes needed when dealing with a particular brand of evil, like the Red Room. It was why she and Clint had thus far kept them out of their extracurricular activities.

But the Red Room was calling her out, they would be waiting for her. She could not risk Clint’s life on her fury alone to carry her through. Natasha reached for her phone, dialing the number for their newest teammate. She needed the Winter Soldier. As tenuous as the trust was between them, she believed Barnes would be willing to go with her if it meant saving Clint.

The phone picked up on the fourth ring. “Barnes, I – ”

“Natasha! Someone took Bucky!”

Natasha paused as Steve continued rambling, glancing at the bloody note. Two abductions in one day, one of whom a shadowy organization previously brainwashed to carry out their own nefarious bidding? Interesting.

“Clint’s been taken, too,” she interrupted Steve’s frantic tirade.

There was a longer pause as the other man struggled to put away Steve Rogers to be Captain America. “Assemble to the Avenger’s Tower now,” Steve ordered before clicking off the phone.

Well, she mused, it seems the Red Room has unintentionally declared war on the Avengers. With Barnes now missing, maybe the team will be more… amenable to her style of doing things.

++++++++++++++++++++

Natasha arrived less than an hour after her phone call with Steve. Tony had called immediately after, curtly asking for Clint’s last known location before demanding she collect photographs and samples of Clint’s blood to verify it was in fact his. There was never any doubt in Natasha’s mind, but the test was not for her benefit. It seemed Tony, Steve and Bruce needed the confirmation. Tony was pale when Jarvis confirmed the results, Bruce resigned, and Steve appeared ready to hit something. He did not do well when someone threatened his teammates. Natasha smiled internally, she could use that passion and protectiveness for her benefit.

Things only got worse when Tony pulled surveillance video of Barnes’ ambush. Natasha could almost hear the teeth in Roger’s mouth protesting the force of his clenched jaw. The goons hired to take down Barnes were sloppy and poorly trained – a far cry from the typical class of muscle the Red Room would employ. Locals, Natasha decided. Let the locals wear Barnes out and sacrifice their bodies so the Red Room’s muscle would be untouched.

Barnes was holding his own and managed to take down the five morons before the person running the show sent in his prize fighting force. The three person group swarmed Barnes as his back was turned; one sweeping his legs while another aimed a strike to his midsection. Barnes got up swinging, but the third operative side stepped the blow, slinking under Barnes’ arm before jabbing him with a needle. The woman danced out of Barnes’ reach as he swung, the other two operatives following her lead in maintaining distance.

By the time Barnes had finally sank to his knees, the group subduing him with chains and strikes, Steve had already driven his fist through the wall. Bruce and Tony hurried after him, cajoling and calming the upset soldier. Natasha ignored them, eyes fixed on the third figure, the blonde hair and delicate features.

So, Natasha thought, a predatory snarl deep in her chest. You’ve decided to come out of hiding. It appears her and Clint’s suspicions of Ms. Belinskaya’s involvement as a sleeper agent were correct after all. Natasha would be having a reunion with her old friend sooner than anticipated.

Bruce managed to calm Steve down as Natasha helped Tony sort through video to see where the people who took Bucky went and who took Clint. She had already sectioned off the ones taken during the group home to see if anyone was following Clint but without knowing who to look for, it was difficult. Jarvis managed to find a social media post where it appeared Clint was crouched low talking to a child in the park in the background of the photo. Natasha moved the photograph to the side and continued searching when Jarvis addressed the group.

“Sir, I am receiving an encrypted video from an unknown sender, the file is titled “Return” in Cyrillic. It is addressed to a Natalia Romanova.”

Bruce looked at Natasha curiously. “Are you expecting any fan videos,” he asked the same time Tony demanded Jarvis to play the video and track the sender.

Natasha’s hair stood on end the second the narrator began speaking over a dark screen. She would know Victor Yegorov’s voice anywhere. He always had a certain fondness for the Red Room’s recruits, fostering a loyalty to himself with the younger ones early on that would carry through the years; breaking and remaking them the way he saw fit. Jarvis had already been translating the Russian words and putting them on a separate screen for the others to follow.

_“Those who wander from their pastures may be lost, but will not remain so. The lost sheep always return to their shepherd and will be welcomed into the fold. I have found a couple of lost sheep…”_

The video switched to a cell with the missing Avengers shackled and bloodied.

_“It is time to return home and out of the cold. Maybe the lost sheep will find their way home before the butcher gives into hunger. You have hurt me, betrayed and shamed your family. But I am a forgiving man, like a father to a disobedient child, you will be welcomed back. Put aside this childish rebellion, return home. If not... you know distractions and weaknesses are not tolerated here. You have three days.”_

The video ended after one last lingering look over their chained companions, Bucky’s ferocious defiance and Clint’s impassive face looking straight at her, unwavering. 

When the picture first appeared, Natasha could feel Tony and Bruce’s eyes on her, as if waiting for a hulk-type beast to emerge, enraged at what she saw on the screen, Clint bloodied and restrained. They would be disappointed, her rage was tightly coiled, tightly controlled and burning since she learned Clint was taken. Natasha Romanoff did not lose control, did not blow up in uncontrollable rage; her wrath will manifest in ruthless, bloody vengeance where only the lucky ones die quickly.

When the video had ended and Jarvis regretfully advised he was unable to track the video to its source, the group fell silent. Natasha looking back through cameras and media posts from the park, now that she knew who was behind this…

Tony piped up, breaking the silence. “That’s it? No ransom demand or instruction on where to go?” He turned to Steve. “Is this guy some Hydra fanatic popping out of the woodwork with a half century old beef? Because his sales pitch seems like the kind of convoluted tale those Hydra nuts would peddle.”

Steve shook his head, body still tense in anger. “Nobody from my past and nobody I’m aware of. They don’t exactly keep me on their mailing roster.”

Natasha cursed under her breath, drawing Bruce’s eyes as Tony went back and forth with Steve. “You know who it is,” Bruce said.

Natasha grimaced in response as she saved the picture she was glaring at as Clint’s message now became clear. 

“The video is for you.”

The two other men fell silent and turned to their Russian friend. Natasha let out a controlled breath, her voice emotionless. “His name is Victor Yegorov, former Red Room superior and former KGB officer.”

“The Avengers haven’t had any dealings with Russia or a red room. Why would we be on their radar?”

“This is not for the Avengers. This is for me, the insinuation is Barton in exchange for myself. What do you know about the Red Room?” At their silence she continued. “The Red Room was the Russian version of the US’s and Hydra’s super soldier programs. Unlike the US, recruits were not voluntary. I was a graduate of the Red Room. When the Kremlin shut it down, the operation went underground. Some graduates were terminated, others reassigned. I escaped.”

“So it’s revenge. This Victor guy wants to kill the one who got away.” Tony frowned. “I’m kind of disappointed. After all our more elaborately motivated supervillains, we get such a trite motivation as revenge killing.”

Natasha’s lips twitched. “Victor does not want me dead, at least not yet. He wants his unruly asset back. But first he will want a demonstration, a test to prove I’m redeemable in his eyes for reeducation.”

“And if you aren’t?” Bruce didn’t want to know, unease prickling at the back of his neck. He always got queasy and anxious when discussing governmental experiments on human subjects (which is exactly what ‘re-education’ sounds like). Granted, the Hulk was an experiment he conducted on himself, but he had seen the results on coerced subjects and it made him ill.

“He’ll kill me. Or at least he’ll try.”

“What about Bucky,” Steve asked and Natasha’s gaze shifted over to him, appraising him. “You mentioned Clint is leverage for you, but what does he need Bucky for?”

“Victor will not harm him. Barnes was not taken for leverage, he was taken as a possible asset. A weapon.”

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise before anger flashed across his face. “Bucky is not a weapon!”

“ _I_ know that. The team knows that. But Victor does not; the Red Room does not. They view him as a weapon, one they can use for their own devices. That is what they specialize in, molding humans into weapons.”

“What about Clint?”

“Clint would not be allowed to leave the complex alive. Victor views him as my weakness, so he took Clint as leverage and to purge it from me.” Natasha’s eyes flashed and her voice hardened. “It was a mistake.”

“What makes you think they want to convert Bucky and not Clint? If they have the technology to brainwash someone, you’d think they’d use it on all their prisoners.” Steve flinched when Bruce mentioned brainwashing, always uncomfortable with the subject after learning Bucky was alive as Hydra’s puppet. 

“The Red Room required strict discipline and compliance. The training took years to perfect. Anything viewed as weakness – emotions, personal attachments, physical comfort – was trained or beaten out at an early age. Victor believes Clint is my weakness. In a way, he is right. I would not have survived without Clint, would have died or been folded back into the program. After I escaped, I was feral, not tolerant of human interactions or relationships.” Tony snorted at this but Natasha ignored him. “Clint won’t be allowed to live. I imagine Victor will keep him alive long enough for me to kill him: the ‘final test’ for my reeducation.

“Barnes was a former soldier, crafted by the US military and later molded and refined by Hydra. Hydra has already demonstrated that the Winter Soldier was an invaluable asset for them. Victor would be looking for good soldiers while he restarts the Red Room training program.”

“You said the Red Room was disbanded years ago.” Steve spoke in the measured voice of the military leader he had been decades prior. “If they are like Hydra as you said, surely they would have been on Shield’s radar, on the World Security Council’s or someone’s. I haven’t heard anything about them, how can you be sure Victor’s trying to restart it and not simply seek revenge?”

“Victor - or someone else - has already restarted the program and Clint encountered one of their operatives.” Natasha flicked the photographs she selected on the board. The one with an out of focus Hawkeye talking to a little girl in the park, to a store surveillance camera still of the same little girl holding a large man’s hand. Natasha’s eyes flashed and showed their first emotion since Clint was abducted: cold fury. “That,” Natasha growled, “is Victor Yegorov. And that girl there, is a Black Widow in training.”

Silence reigned for a moment before voices started talking over each other.

“You must be mistaken!”

“That’s a child!”

“How do you know she wasn’t kidnapped or is some pawn?”

“Because Clint said she was the operative he encountered when he was grabbed.”

Tony looked around at his teammates. “Um, am I missing something? When did Feathers – “

Natasha opened the video on the screen, scrolling back through to the beginning. She enlarged it on Clint, on the clumsy contortions he was making covertly with his manacled hands. “I mastered sign language with Clint; it comes in handy when his hearing aids are broken.”

Natasha let the three soak that in before switching back to the photo of the little girl holding Victor’s hand. She played the video she took the still photo from. It was short but revealing despite coming from a building across the street. Between passing cars, the video showed the little girl and man watching another male load something large into the trunk of a car. Natasha paused the image and zoomed in on the people; blonde hair peeped over the trunk lid as the first man looked on in glee. She saw Bruce, Steve and Tony take in the stony expression of the small child. Bruce had a particular expression on his face and she wondered if he was remembering their first meeting in India, when she used a small child to lure him outside the city…

“She looks to be about eight,” Steve protested, weakly. “I can’t imagine how deadly – “

“They don’t have to be,” Natasha interrupted, her mask back in place and all emotion hidden. “It takes little skill shooting a gun and aiming at a target. The other benefit of using them at such a young age is they make for excellent lures, make you let your guard down. Any child you meet at that facility must be treated like a hostile operative.”

“But you’re talking about kids!” This came from Tony. Despite all his hard edges and dismissive attitude toward anything he deemed too personal or emotional, deep down he had his soft spots.

“The training can start as young as four. That’s when I started. My first mission was at her age; I killed two people with a knife as they tried to provide me shelter from a storm. They were dissenters for the government and enemies of the state.”

Tony tried not to flinch. The matter of fact way Natasha was detailing her crimes, the training of children… it was unnerving. Natasha never let emotions get away from her, but this was different. This was acceptance, no guilt. A recitation of past events. Tony had seen evil, had been known as the Merchant of Death, but this was a different level, had the bile rise as Natasha met his eyes, unflinching.

“Do not underestimate them.”

Bruce spoke up for the first time since Natasha presented the photos of the girl who lured and ensnared one of their teammates. “Look, I’ve seen messed up things, but even I can’t fathom killing a child.”

Natasha shrugged. “Then don’t kill them. Incapacitate them and secure them; but don’t be gentle or show pity. They will be ruthless and will escape to kill you.”

Steve cleared his throat, his worry for Bucky and the horror of what Natasha described battling in his mind. “So we need a plan. But the question is, why now? Why did he come after you now?”

Natasha studied the team. “Since Clint and I partnered up, we have made it our mission to eradicate any remaining vestiges or members of the Red Room program. Even as we joined the Avengers, this has remained a pet project. We had been getting closer the past few years in destroying it all. However, we recently were getting whispers of someone attempting to revive the program, of a former member spearheading the project. It seems this is no longer a rumor. I fancy Victor is hoping to bring me back and train the new generation. And to ensure that anyone who poses a threat to it, Clint and myself, are out of the way.”

“Wait, you mean you’ve been working on this on your own? Is that where the two of you go when you take off on special missions? Why didn’t you say anything!”

“We’re supposed to be a team,” Steve said, cutting Tony off. “We could have helped, had your backs.”

Natasha leveled her gaze at him. “Our methods are not usually condoned by the team. The Red Room is evil, a poison that all traces of must be eradicated permanently without exception. Such methods are contrary to the team’s sensibilities.”

Tony swallowed, feeling the blood drain from his face. Even Bruce appeared a little green and he didn’t think it was from the Other Guy wanting to make an appearance. Steve… Steve looked furious.

“You’ve been running these missions behind our backs, murdering – “

“They’ve been Shield sanctioned since we joined the agency, still were up until its fall. It was one of Clint’s and my conditions for joining the agency. You were right, Steve, there was no way Fury would let this be if he had knowledge of it. But there had never been enough to act on and when at its height, the Red Room was notorious for slaughtering anyone looking into their affairs. But I had a way in, knowledge Shield hadn’t had at their disposal. Barton and I also had experience dismantling their operations. Unlike any other Shield operative Fury could have put on the case, we knew what we were up against and were willing to take the risk.

“There’s a reason we didn’t speak about it to you. Not only were these missions off the books, your conscience and morals couldn’t cope with it. I understand, or Clint did. He knew I wanted to continue, made a vow to help me, but he convinced me not to say anything. He was right. This is a different world. Clint and I have no qualms doing what must be done, even if it is distasteful in the light of day. We had no intention of informing or involving you in these matters.”

“You still can’t think of going off alone,” Bruce argued. “It’s clearly a trap. And those are our friends, we can’t sit by and do nothing!”

“With Barnes’ capture, I know this changes things. Along with that,” Natasha gestured to the frozen image of the little girl Clint called ‘Layla’. “However, I must inform you that you must take whatever action is necessary. If you hesitate and fall, I will not come back for you, not until I get Clint and Barnes free. You will take your own lives in hand if you do this, and rest assured, I won’t hesitate to do what is necessary.”

She fixed each one of them with a look, daring them to challenge her, to refute or scold her blatantly rejecting their “no-killing” rule as Avengers. Her gaze landed on Steve last, the biggest opposition. 

“This is your fight,” he began, the words seeming painful as he forced them from his teeth. “We may still hold to the oath we took as Avengers, but we will not stop you.”

Natasha nodded, accepting his concession. She knew this was a one off, that if it weren’t Bucky and Clint held captive, he would argue further. It wasn’t something he could forgive. Even now she could see the difference in his gaze how he regarded her. No matter. She is used to being alone, feared. Distrusted.

Tony cleared his throat, hoping to break up the tension in the air. “So, where do we go?”

Natasha glanced at Bruce and Tony. “I know someone who may have the information.”

“All right,” Steve said, pulling out his Captain America voice. “Where do we go to find this person?”

Natasha stared at Steve, hard. After a few seconds he started to squirm under her gaze. “What?”

“You won’t like how I get the information. I go alone.”

“Natasha – “

“No, ‘Natasha’,” she snapped. “You will come with me to Victor’s base, but this woman is from the Red Room. She is hardened and will not break under your idealism or sense of fair play. You don’t like killing? Fine, don’t do it. You don’t like torture? Don’t come,” Natasha growled. Steve opened his mouth to protest but Natasha fixed him with a glare that caused him to flinch. “She is Red Room, this is _my_ business, it will be handled _my_ way.”

Steve’s jaw snapped shut but he returned the glare. He could feel his blood boil and it was a struggle to remind himself that Natasha was not the enemy, that she was a friend and teammate. But it was hard to reconcile that with the woman who exuded death standing before him now. Who straight up said she would torture someone for information.

Natasha leveled her gaze at the other two members. “Either of you is welcomed if you can stomach sitting back and not getting in my way, otherwise I will do this alone.” She turned back to Steve where he was clenching his jaw. “I will come back once I have the information. Any questions?” Steve’s eyes flashed but he held his tongue. “Good. I leave in 30 minutes – “

“We,” Tony interrupted, surprising the others. “I may not agree with it, but I know how these organizations work. I’ll provide aerial support only if needed.”

Natasha nodded and turned toward her quarters to gear up.

“What are you doing,” Steve hissed when Natasha was out of earshot.

“Look, she’s going to go off with or without us. If this is our best way to find Barnes and Barton, then I’m not letting her go alone. You and Bruce can hang back and try to track if anyone is planning on auctioning off a World War II relic or if the Red Room is trying to keep soldier-boy in house. We’ll hopefully be back in a couple of hours with a location.”

“It’s the best course of action,” Bruce said quietly to Steve. “Someone needs to go with her, no matter how confident she is she can handle this on her own. You going wouldn’t be good, we don’t need any fighting amongst ourselves.” Bruce looked at Tony. “Besides, you’ll keep us in the loop and we can readily deploy if things go south, right?”

Tony gave the team his megawatt smile that had gotten him away with more things than he should. “Of course! I’ll be monitoring Widow and will keep you guys updated. Besides, Natasha and I have worked together before, still got all my parts and fingers!” He wagged his fingers for emphasis trying to dispel the melancholy in the room the best way he knew how.

Steve shrugged his shoulders before stalking off. The other two men watched him walk away and disappear into the elevator.

“I’ll work on him,” Bruce said quietly. “He only just got Bucky back and he’s upset about that.”

Tony nodded, his shoulders slumping now he didn’t have to put on airs for their leader. “Natasha, too, with Clint. I don’t know the history of those two, but Natasha doesn’t seem willing to allow anything to chance. And Steve…” Tony shook his head. “Man hasn’t been broken yet, hasn’t realized there is a lot more grey in this world than simple ‘right or wrong’.” He looked meaningfully at Bruce. “Something tells me this will be leaning a lot more grey than what Rogers can stomach.”

Bruce nodded as Tony clapped his shoulder and set about preparing his suit and heading to the landing pad. Bruce was still out of his depth regarding this world of espionage and black market weapons that the two assassins and former weapons maker were. Something told him that this mission would change how the team could function, if they could still reconcile each other’s flaws and dark sides. He shook his head from musings of the future before turning to the computer interface system, Jarvis already scanning relevant databases and separating them for Bruce to read. One problem at a time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Some of the dialog from this chapter was the inspiration for this story. The plot and tone have gone through some changes but I’m hoping it works. 
> 
> TW: There is strangulation in this chapter, not described in detail and is not related to domestic violence. However, I will go in depth about strangulation in general in the author's note at the end. This is a topic I feel very strongly about.

Bucky continued to glower at the primly dressed man standing outside the cell door. The cell was fashioned like a jail cell, thick bars spanning the length of the wall including the door. Except, unlike most prisons, both he and Clint had thick manacles chaining them to a stone wall. Bucky hadn’t been awake too long, Barton staring down at him worriedly before two men approached, one with a video camera behind what Bucky assumed was the boss based on the expensive suit and slicked back hair.

The boss was still smiling at them after announcing he and Clint would be helping with a video. Bucky didn’t need to be told what the film was for and held the glare as the man narrated in Russian. He had already tested the chains – whoever this guy was, he wasn’t stupid – and they held firm.

The goon recording their ransom demand slipped away after a few minutes, leaving the two snipers with their captor.

“Thank you for your help on my video for my wayward protégé,” the man said as he switched back to English. “My name is Victor, I own this facility. You can scream all you want, there is no one around. You can try to escape, but you will find that I have taken the proper precautions to prevent such nonsense. Now I’m sure you’re probably wondering why I’ve invited you here.”

“I never got an invitation,” Clint interjected. He turned to Bucky. “Did you, Barnes? I gotta say, the accommodations and service here is severely lacking.”

Victor’s eye twitched but the smile did not falter. “When I found out about the assassin Hawkeye, the man who lured my Natalia away and partnered up with her, I looked into him.” Victor flicked his eyes over the blond. “I must say I am greatly unimpressed with what I see. I expected someone more professional, like your friend over there.” Victor gestured to Bucky who glared in returned.

“Nope, just charming ol’ me. Circus act turned assassin and super spy! I’m nothing like broody over there, but he’s at least got a sense of humor, unlike you. Although…” Clint eyed the man. “Wearing that suit and that haircut, it seems you have a sense of humor after all.”

Victor frowned, his face coloring slightly and jaw twitching. “I cannot see why the Black Widow keeps you around. You are arrogant, unrefined and a fool. Perhaps as a kind of pet for amusement? Though I doubt she has tolerance for one. And you,” Victor said, turning toward Bucky. “I – “

“What kind?”

Two pairs of eyes looked over at the archer.

“What kind of what?” Victor asked, confused. 

“Pet. You said I was Widow’s pet. I want to know what kind.”

“Does it matter,” Bucky hissed.

“Well, yeah…” Clint responded, rolling his eyes at Bucky, who clearly missed the importance of this. After spending his formative years working around exotic circus animals, Clint had spent many hours pondering this while watching them perform. And he could see the disbelieving look on Victor’s face, the irritation bubbling underneath and he couldn’t resist annoying him further.

“Hmmm, maybe a dog? I like dogs. But that’s probably too mundane for a badass assassin like the Black Widow. I mean, what kind of pet would a femme fatale have? Oh! Can I be an alligator? No, a cobra! They’re deadly and quick, travel sized.”

Victor’s face became pinched, as if a sudden migraine showed up at his door to practice percussion.

“Or maybe an otter,” Clint mused. “They’re small and it would be unexpected.”

“An otter,” Bucky repeated incredulously, ignoring the fact that he’s indulging Clint’s runaway mind, but, fuck it. He’s got nothing better to do. “Of all the items on your list, that would rank below dead last. Maybe, I don’t know, a spider? You know, being the Black Widow and all.”

“They remind me of dogs! They’re so playful and if I can’t be a dog, this wouldn’t be too far off. But I guess you’re right, a spider would make more sense. As long as I’m not a cat, I’ll be pretty content.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with cats?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with cats. It’s just, well, I’m not a cat and that’s sort of a cliche evil villain thing. Now, take a tyrannosaurus rex! I can see Nat going for it, riding on my back into battle and I’d have the most ferocious roar!”

“Enough!” thundered Victor, his nostrils flaring.

“You started it,” Clint grumbled.

Victor’s eyes glinted. “My point still stands. You are an inconsequential buffoon – “

“Now that’s just hurtful. I always thought of myself more as a court jester.”

“Even so, I cannot comprehend how we have been kept on the run by an imbecile such as yourself. You are a plaything for Natalia. That is the only reason I can see. And when she bores of you, when you cease to amuse her, she will discard you as a child would a broken toy.”

“Wrong again, Vicky m’boy!” Clint chirped. “You called me a pet so I’m sticking with it. Besides, if I’m this ‘broken toy’, then why would she come for me? Wouldn’t it be easier to get a new one?”

Victor studied the blond man for a moment. “I hope for your sake then that she still has fond feelings for her ‘pet’.”

“Why? You’re going to kill me either way.”

“That is true. But I am hoping Natalia will be motivated to find you without any more incentive or clues. That she has not forgotten her training. It will mean she can still be salvaged.”

“What do you mean salvaged?” Clint’s voice was sharp, giving Bucky pause at the shift in tone. It was the first sign he’d given that Victor was getting to him.

Victor must have picked up on it, too, because his smile twisted cruelly across his face. “Natalia belongs to us. We do not give up on our investment easily. A demonstration!” Victor clapped his hands and looked to the ceiling. “Sofia, activate our subject!”

Bucky felt the unease pooling in his gut. Clint was still glaring at their kidnapper, looking as if he were trying to set him ablaze with his eyes. Bucky fidgeted when he felt a tingle at the base of his skull, then a jolt and his muscles contracting. Clint was saying something but Bucky wasn’t listening, trying to stave off the dread that was rapidly drowning his mind. Oh no, please, no…

The smile Victor sent him made the horror take form inside of Bucky. No…

“Soldier,” Victor commanded, “stand up!”

Without his permission, Bucky rose to his feet.

“Barnes, what’s going on?”

No, no, no. The word kept repeating through him, resounding in all his desperation to no avail. Bucky was once again a hostage in his own body.

“Now, lift the prisoner to his feet.”

Clint’s eyes widened as he approached. “Bucky?”

Bucky wrapped his metal arm around his teammate’s throat, raising him as high as the chains would let him. “I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, and judging by the look in his eyes, Clint could hear him. “It’s not me!”

Clint’s legs swung uselessly, mobility restricted by his shackled ankles. His hands scrambled ineffectively at Bucky’s metal wrist.

“You see,” Victor continued, stepping into both the Avengers’ periphery, “I have plans to bring our unruly operative back where she belongs and a way of guaranteeing her compliance if need be. And, if she is no longer useful, we will have the famed Winter Soldier at our beck and call!”

Clint’s face was turning blue and Bucky felt he was going to vibrate out of his skin, trying to fight whatever took command of his nervous system, his own body trying to shudder and shatter to a million pieces.

“That’s enough!” Victor barked and Bucky’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, dropping like a sack of potatoes.

Clint barely managed to catch himself before joining the same harsh landing as Bucky. He coughed and massaged his throat. “I will kill you,” he rasped, voice hoarse but words unmistakable.

“I would very much like to see you try,” Victor sneered. “For now, you have use. But make no mistake, that is a very small use and I can make do with one of you. The trap has already been set for Natalia.”

Clint glared at the retreating back and as soon as a door slammed shut at the end of the hall, he clambered over to Bucky’s still form. Clint rolled the former Winter Soldier to his side, tracing along Bucky’s spine until his fingers found the implanted device. It shocked Clint when he prodded it, caused Bucky to convulse and cry out in pain. There was no way for him to remove it, at least not here.

“Bastards,” Clint cursed, turning Bucky on his back and pulling his head into Clint’s lap. Clint ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair, entreating the unconscious sniper to wake up. 

Clint had been suspicious when he awoke alone only to have the hired thugs dragging the limp super-soldier to the cell some time later. If Clint was right, they weren’t in New York and there was no reason for there to have been such a gap in his and Bucky’s capture. Knowing the Red Room, Clint’s mind could only find disturbing possibilities for the sniper’s absence.

They had left them alone after that, ignoring Clint’s demands, pointing a gun at him as they chained Bucky beside him. Bucky didn’t stir for a while, barely awake before Victor and his hack videographer approached the bars. Now Clint knew why.

++++++++++++++++++++

Bucky woke up an hour later with a loud groan. Clint hurried over from where he had been testing the length and strength of their confines. There were no locks for him to pick and brute strength obviously failed. “Easy there, Barnes,” he chided, slowly assisting the other man to a seated position, propped against the stone wall. “You had a bit of a tumble.” 

In truth, Clint didn’t know if Bucky struck his head when the implanted device shut off, too focused on controlling his own fall. Clint hoped that was the reason for Bucky being out, he didn’t like the idea of the implanted device being responsible. Thanks to the knock off super soldier serum, the other man was able to shake off most injuries given a little time. But Bucky took too long to regain consciousness for Clint to put much faith in that, especially for a blow that couldn’t have been that hard. Besides, when had their luck ever been that good? He just hoped the device didn’t have the capabilities to shut down Bucky’s other body systems.

“What happened,” Bucky groaned, his head pounding with no recollection. He drew his eyes up to Clint but they halted before they reached his face, transfixed on bruises on the archer’s neck he could have sworn weren’t there before. “Jesus, Barton,” Bucky breathed, hands shaking as he reached out to the other man before quickly retracting. The memories he didn’t have came back and he wished they hadn’t, wished they weren’t true. Bucky was under control of another and made to hurt a friend once more. “I – I never… I – “

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Clint soothed, placing his hands on brunet’s shoulders. “It’s all right.”

Bucky shook his head fiercely, ignoring the nausea the motion brought up. “I did that, I could’ve – “

“It wasn’t you.” Clint’s voice was firm and while Bucky didn’t believe it, he didn’t argue, instead focusing on the fact Clint was fine and here. And…

“Who was that?”

Clint growled, his fingers clenching minutely on Bucky’s shoulders. “Victor Yegorov,” he spat. “One of the Red Room’s masterminds and benefactors.” Clint met Bucky’s eyes, as if reading the sniper’s next question. “Hydra isn’t the only one specializing in mind control or brainwashing. The Red Room is pretty adept. Although, they prefer to start indoctrinating their operatives at a young age, but I guess it wasn’t a stretch for them to branch out to other more expedient methods. That wasn’t you back there.” Clint hesitated before continuing. “They implanted a device at the base of your skull. My guess is it sends electrical impulses and they used it to override your motor control.”

Bucky’s face froze in horror as he reached up to probe the area but Clint latched onto his arm.

“Don’t. It sends out an electrical signal when touched. It got me as well as you when I tried.”

Bucky’s arm retreated, despair and fear of once again being a weapon for others curling his form inward. He was nothing more than one of Tony’s robots waiting for a command. It was like he was back under Hydra’s control. 

Clint laid a hand on his shoulder, a crooked smile on his face. “But it seems they’re still perfecting the technology, the control isn’t complete. Your thoughts and words were your own. Which means, you might have a chance to fight it.”

Clint seemed convinced of what he was saying, that Bucky could fight it, that there was hope. But it only took one look at Clint’s throat ringed in bruises to show him the fallacy of that hope. Instead of arguing, Bucky pushed it aside to ask a different question plaguing him.

“What does he want with Natasha?”

Clint was silent for a moment. “The Red Room focused on training children to become deadly assassins, operatives ingrained with loyalty and no human entanglements. Natasha was their most lethal and acclaimed graduate.” Clint met Bucky’s eyes and there was a rage in there that he had never seen before. “They want to reclaim their Black Widow, bring her back under their control and, I assume, to train the new generation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t have many soapboxes, but this is one of them. (Let me be clear, I’m not talking about erotic asphyxiation. If it’s consensual and your choice, that’s your business but be aware of you or your partner’s safety). While I had bruises appear around Clint’s neck, this is not always the case in strangulation. In most strangulation cases, there are no external marks on the victim’s throat. There may be some redness that fades shortly after, but it is not uncommon for there to be no external signs. This includes petechiae in the eyes or inside of the lips. While petechial hemorrhaging does happen when capillaries burst due to intense pressure, it is not always present, even in fatal-strangulation cases. Even if the subject does not die due to the initial strangulation incident, there is a chance for the subject to die later or suffer severe brain trauma. There have been cases where individuals have had an artery severed in their neck and nearly bleed out internally days later. Along with people whose throat has continued to swell days after the event, requiring them to be intubated to protect the airway. In both those cases, there were no external signs for either patient. Skin tone will also impact the visibility of external signs, the darker the skin the less visible any discoloration (if present) will be. 
> 
> Strangulation is a very serious form of violence and the victim should be checked out by a medical professional, even if they don’t lose consciousness. Strangulation is restricting the airway or the blood flow to the brain. Strangulation can be fatal even days later due to the swelling under the skin that can block an airway or a severed blood vessel. This is not something to take lightly and it’s not “choking”. Choking is when an object in the throat becomes lodged and blocks the airway. 
> 
> The marks on Clint’s neck are used as a plot device and should not be taken as a rule or the only indication of the trauma that may be lurking beneath the skin. If you have questions, if you need someone to talk to, hit me up by email or check out any of your local resources for intimate partner violence. This issue is very important to me and is still completely misunderstood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay, been dealing with some health problems. Hopefully this long chapter will make up. The following chapter will be much shorter but I’ll try to keep everything posted quickly. I’m catching up on my final edits so there may be a slight delay after chapter 5. Thank you for reading and take care of yourselves!

Natasha was already in the cockpit gearing up the Quinjet when Tony boarded. She didn’t acknowledge him but waited for him to sit beside her before closing the rear hatch. Tony took it as a sign that Natasha didn’t fully object to him accompanying her. As they took off, Steve’s frowning form on the helipad growing smaller behind them, Tony finally took the time to observe Natasha without any distractions. She allowed it for a few minutes before raising an eyebrow at him. Tony stared right back.

“You changed your mind rather quickly,” Natasha mused coolly. “You went from horrified to indifferent.”

“Don’t mistake, I don’t condone the use of torture, but I will accept that this is your world, one I know nothing about. I will defer to your expertise. Besides, I trust you. You had my back when shit went down with Hammer Tech, when I didn’t trust me. And I want Birdman and Grumpy Cat back. Team doesn’t quite feel the same without those two knuckleheads.”

Natasha nodded, turning the plane north.

“You, uh, were a little vague about how you came about this lead. Mind sharing with the class?”

“I recognized the woman from Barnes’ ambush.”

Tony stiffened. “Cap’s not going to be happy you kept that from him.”

“Cap would insist on going in, all truth, justice, and honor. She is Red Room trained. To underestimate her is suicide. She wouldn’t talk to Rogers or,” Natasha’s eyes flicking to Tony, “anyone else.”

“From what I heard, you and the Red Room had a falling out. If she is still working for them, why would she talk with you? You exchange Christmas Cards or something?”

Natasha paused, pursing her lips as she considered how much to share. “We have a… shared history. An understanding of the world and what our place is in it.”

Tony tried to suppress the shudder, Natasha’s words seeming ominous. He cleared his throat. “What’s she doing here?” When it didn’t look like Natasha would answer him, Tony pressed on. “Look, I already said I would let you run the show. I don’t want to get involved in your personal business, but I want our friends back. I’m here to help and I can’t do that if you keep things from me.” Tony didn’t do sincere often, not with people outside his inner circle, but he poured every ounce of it into his voice and face. He may not say it, but the team was inching closer to that circle. It must have worked because Natasha sighed and gave in.

“I don’t know.” The words were honest and let him see her uncertainty before Natasha hardened. “If she was truly working with Victor, then she should have followed him instead of returning to her home base. It’s possible she still has a mission here and Victor no longer viewed her services as necessary for the moment. Clint and I were doing surveillance on her at her warehouse, snuck in some cameras where she was hiding out. I had my suspicions but we didn’t know if she still had a connection to the Red Room at the time. Until I saw that surveillance video.”

It still bothered her, that Natasha had been wrong. She and Clint had observed Marisha Belinskaya off and on for a few weeks now; there was nothing to indicate she was involved in anything espionage related. But there was no denying the woman on the video assisting a strike team in capturing Barnes. Barnes who later ended up chained alongside Clint in Victor Yegorov’s hands. The question was why.

Marisha didn’t do personal, didn’t hold grudges. She was too pragmatic. Marisha may have taken Barnes, but Natasha wasn’t certain about her involvement in Clint‘s abduction. Marisha probably didn’t know Clint’s connection to her and there was no connection between her and Barnes. Barnes would have no use to Marisha, he would only have been taken at someone’s direction. Someone like Victor. Which led to one conclusion Natasha dreaded: Marisha was still doing the Red Room’s bidding. She had foolishly hoped the other woman broke free as Natasha had done. Now Clint and Barnes were paying the price.

Natasha shouldn’t be surprised. Marisha had always been their favorite, always a rule follower and unquestioningly loyal to the cause – of country and countrymen. She never left a task or mission incomplete. Natasha had not been described in such glowing terms. Superiors liked Natasha’s ruthlessness, her unrelenting and at times unorthodox approach to assignments. She had not enjoyed killing, but she was efficient and did as they asked without question… Until they betrayed her and she unleashed all her deadly skills on them. Perhaps that was the biggest difference between the two: Marisha still believed and had no problem being a pawn to further the Red Room’s goals while Natasha had her eyes opened and refused to go back to being controlled.

Natasha tightened her grip on the jet’s yoke, banishing the thoughts from her head. It would not do to get caught up in the past, she had to focus on the present. On Tony who was still speaking, still asking questions. Natasha nodded to a paper file sticking out of her saddle bag. She hoped it would answer his questions without her having to explain much.

Tony pulled out a file labeled _**Marisha Belinskaya**_ and was confronted with the cold eyes of a blonde woman with snow like skin. Her light blue eyes set in a delicate face made her appear ethereal. “How do you know her?” He slipped his tech glasses over his eyes, gearing up Jarvis to translate the Cyrillic script for him.

Natasha pursed her lips. “We were… ‘classmates’ in the Red Room training program.”

Tony let out a low whistle as he skimmed over what he could only assume were Red Room assessment files on the woman. “She looks like she was one of their top operatives.”

“I’m better,” Natasha growled, eyes glinting as she steered the jet to a nearby clearing.

++++++++++++++++++++

Natasha left Tony to mull over the file, still photos, articles, everything she had on the other assassin as she made to collect her gear. She was about to strap on her backup gun before returning it to its case. This was not an execution but an interrogation. An excess of firepower would lead Marisha to the wrong conclusion. Besides, this fight would be more close quarters. Marisha would prefer to fight hand to hand. Only one firearm would be needed if things went sideways. Natasha secreted a couple of knives on her person as well for good measure.

It was different, fighting men and women. Men tended to rely on brute strength while women tended to be more flexible, which would make it harder to pin Marisha down in a way she couldn’t slither out of. The Red Room wanted its operatives to be as fluid as water. It had been a while since Natasha had fought another Widow, another trained like herself. She found herself almost looking forward to the challenge, to see if her skills were still up to par.

Natasha pulled up the surveillance cameras she and Clint had placed almost a month ago. They were still active and, Natasha noted with amusement, it seemed her adversary was waiting for her. It appeared Marisha employed her own surveillance measures, or maybe Marisha knew her as well as she knew Marisha. Natasha was about to shut out of the program but hesitated, glancing at Stark. Normally she wouldn’t consider inviting an outsider a view into her world, but two teammates’ lives were at stake, she would not take the risk just for her privacy. If Marisha killed her, Stark would have to finish it.

“Here.” Natasha swiveled the screen to Tony where he had been silently watching her. “This will give you access to the cameras we have. Do not interfere unless I call for you.” Tony was already filling the seat she had vacated, Ironman suit already adorned minus the face plate. “And Tony,” he turned to face her. “What you hear, what happens there…”

Tony locked eyes with her, studying her. “Your show,” he finally agreed. “But after, if I have problems…”

Natasha nodded, accepting the compromise. Despite her reservations, she could feel the tension lessen, having Stark watching her back and hopefully keeping this between them. Natasha steeled herself for a moment before slipping out of the QuinJet and making her way to the warehouse on the other side of the trees.

++++++++++++++++++++

As expected, Marisha was waiting for her inside. “Surprised to see you here, Natalia,” she greeted. “What reason do I have for this visit? You were never the sentimental type.”

“I come for information. You had a job recently,” Natasha said, standing well beyond Marisha’s reach.

Marisha shrugged. “We were shut down years ago, or haven’t you heard?”

“I had heard that, thought you got out. But then I find you helping Victor Yegorov.” Natasha spat the name like poison and Marisha’s mouth twitched at the corner.

“I don’t see why this concerns you, Natalia.”

Natasha wondered how much Marisha really knew of Victor’s plans, of what he had done so far. She paused briefly before pressing on. In the end, it didn’t matter. Clint was gone and Marisha knew where Victor took him and Barnes.

“He took someone from me, I want him back.”

Marisha’s eyes danced and the twitch grew larger, a tug of a smirk. “The Hydra puppet? What could you want with – “

“Not him,” Natasha growled. “Another at a park. My partner.” Normally Natasha would not bare her weakness to an adversary, but Victor had convinced Marisha to assist with the Winter Soldier’s capture and arguing against that to help Natasha’s rescue efforts for him would be moot. Natasha didn’t know if Marisha knew about Clint and she would exploit that; make it seem like Clint was not a worthy target for whatever plan Victor shared. That his abduction was personal not tactical and would only invite trouble.

Marisha’s face went flat. Flat as it would during their training. “Attachments are not allowed. You know this. They make you weak. They compromise you.”

“Maybe. But you know me, Marisha. I do things my own way and I don’t back down. You have information where Victor is. I want it. I don’t want to fight, but I won’t leave without it.” Marisha’s posture may have appeared lax, at ease, but Natasha could see the coiled muscles, the hair trigger that kept them barely contained. She was geared for a fight.

Marisha must have read her mind, because she flashed Natasha a smile before casually leaning against a counter, her elbow resting on the surface and bringing her loosely clasped hands to a more ready position. It was meant to be unassuming but Natasha knew better. This was a posture Marisha had often adopted before going on the offensive when baiting a mark.

“You know the rules. I can’t disclose the details of a mission.” The words were sweet but steel ran through them.

“There are no missions. The Red Room is shut down.”

“There are always missions, always things that must be done for the preservation of homeland.”

“I care not for the destruction of our country and we are not at war. My partner is no threat. Tell me where he is and I will leave. Believe me when I say I will do whatever is necessary to get him back.” Natasha slid her foot back slightly, firming her stance.

A feral grin split the other woman’s face. Marisha pushed off the table as she stepped closer to Natasha, slow and graceful. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” Marisha purred.

“I did not come to fight, Rishi,” Natasha repeated, not making a single move – offensive or defensive – as her former friend appeared ready to strike.

“Don’t give me that crap, Talia. You could never lie to me. You came here knowing it would be the only outcome.”

Natasha felt a wry smile tug at her lips. It all felt too familiar, the years they spent in competition with each other. The favorite vs the most lethal. “If you insist on doing things the hard way, then I suppose I could do with a bit of a workout.”

They were always working to this point. A duel that started when they were young, designed to fracture the friendship they once shared. The Red Room could not allow such weakness and attachment and worked to corrupt it. It worked. Not only did their wardens turn friendship into enmity, but the frequent battles led them to become the Red Room’s top students. As Marisha’s eyes danced in anticipation, animosity burning brightly behind them, it was hard for Natasha to remember this was the same girl she once shared body heat with in the cold of winter their first few years.

“Let’s see if your skills have gone as soft as you,” Marisha hissed.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond but Marisha did not wait for the answer before she flung a dagger hidden in her palm, the blade kissing Natasha’s neck as she dodged. Marisha went in for the attack, sliding low as Natasha was still contorted from her evasive maneuver. Marsha’s fist collided into Natasha’s gut and Natasha dropped an elbow on the back of the other woman’s neck. Natasha quickly snaked her arm around and turned the strike into a headlock. Marisha gripped Natasha’s arms before sliding a leg between Natasha’s, hooking around her front foot and kicking out behind her.

Natasha fell to her back with a grunt, dragging Marisha down with her, still confined in the headlock. Natasha used the new positioning to flip Marisha on her back and pin her. She changed her grip and was able to slam Marisha’s head onto the concrete floor once before the taller woman managed to get a knee between their bodies and flip Natasha over her head. Natasha landed on a nearby crate, grunting before rolling to the side as Marisha’s foot slammed down where her head had been. Marisha quickly retracted her foot before striking out again.

Natasha snatched Marisha’s outstretched leg and yanked, pulling the other warrior off balance. Marisha went with the momentum, allowing her weight to follow Natasha’s movements to land on the redhead. Natasha tried to move out of the way but Marisha’s long limbs managed to grab onto her as she tried to stand. Natasha flung her arms in front of her face to protect it from hitting the floor as her feet were pulled out from under her. Natasha kicked out behind her, her left foot connecting with Marisha’s face. The blonde’s grip loosened and Natasha gained her feet. Blood dripped down Marisha’s nose as she sprung back up as well.

Natasha charged at Marisha and feinted left, driving her fist into the taller spy’s stomach and ducking under Marisha’s swing. She spun behind Marisha trying another headlock but Marisha slipped through, grabbing Natasha’s extended arm. Marisha dropped her weight, pulling hard to bring the redhead over her back. Natasha slammed her free hand to Marisha’s neck, stunning her into dropping her shoulder and loosening her grip.

Natasha rolled off Marisha and landed hard on her back, the bruises from the previous throw onto the crate stealing her breath. Marisha was on her in an instant, straddling Natasha over her hips and managing to pin her arms as well at her side. Long nails dug into vulnerable flesh as Marisha wrapped them around the Avenger’s neck.

“I wonder what reward I will be given, killing Mother Russia’s rogue assassin, its embarrassment,” Marisha snarled, her face inches from Natasha’s. “A traitor!”

Natasha could feel the blood rushing in her ears, her body writhing to get out of its current predicament. Her gun was uselessly digging into her back and arms unable to reach the daggers strapped to her side. Natasha clicked her heels together, a blade protruding out the toe of one boot before swinging it up and impaling it in the junction between Marisha’s neck and shoulder. The pain startled Marisha, her weight shifting forward to her hands to get away from the dagger. That was all Natasha needed to buck her hips and dislodge the other woman, freeing Natasha’s hands.

Natasha wrapped her hands around one of Marisha’s arms, yanked hard to break the woman’s grip around her throat and drew in a greedy breath. The venom coating Natasha’s boot dagger was already taking effect and Marisha was sluggish to respond, allowing Natasha to trap one of Marisha’s legs and roll her off of the Avenger.

Natasha made it to her feet and faced Marisha, preparing for her opponent to resume her attack, but Marisha did not get back up. The blood was trailing thickly down her neck as pale blue eyes met Natasha’s emerald green. The fire fled and a wry smile flitted across the fallen woman’s face. They had both been around death before and knew it wouldn’t be long for Marisha. The venom was already wreaking havoc on her body, blood coagulating and blocking the pulmonary arteries. Natasha retracted the blade on her boot.

“You… always cheated,” Marisha said around a painful breath. Each inhale was becoming laborious and Marisha’s teeth were beginning to stain with blood each time she coughed and struggled to pull in air.

“It’s not cheating if you win,” Natasha replied automatically and Marisha huffed a laugh at the familiar response. “I am taking down the Red Room.”

The change was instantaneous. Marisha shook her head, face set. “I will not – “

“They are starting the program again, Rishi. With children.”

The blonde assassin stilled, blinking up at Natasha. She didn’t know.

“While you were assisting Victor‘s men, he had a new recruit lure my partner.” Natasha slipped a photograph out of her pocket, showing a still shot of a stone faced eight year old hand in hand with Victor Yegorov. Hurt flashed in Marisha’s eyes that had nothing to do with her failing body. “What they did to us – “

“Made us stronger,” Marisha interrupted, voice desperate, “better, for –“

“It is a different time, Rishi. A different world from when we were recruited. It is not for these babies to be stripped away, pawns in someone else’s game who don’t fight for homeland.”

Marisha’s face grew hard but she did not speak. Natasha could see sadness at the corner of her eyes.

“You and I differ on many things, but this we are in agreement,” Natasha said softly. “Children should not endure what we did. It is no longer sanctioned by Mother Russia. There is no oversight on what they do to these girls. Tell me where Victor is, let me stop her,” Natasha said, gesturing to the photograph of Layla, “and others from going through what we did, to be broken and beaten, frozen and used as Victor’s plaything for his own ends.”

Marisha’s breathing was labored, wet, but Natasha saw the other woman’s jaw working. “Laptop. Hidden directly under the camera you planted over there, behind a false wall.” At Natasha’s arched eyebrow, Marisha smiled slightly, pleased to have gotten one over her old friend. “I wasn’t certain who was watching but figured they would get bored and sod off or they would underestimate the situation when they finally made their move.” Natasha returned the smile, genuinely. Marisha winced in pain as tremors racked her lanky frame. “Tap three times on the top left corner to open the compartment. Bring it to me.”

Natasha wordlessly did as Marisha instructed. The blonde assassin lifted a shaky hand and pressed her fourth finger on a print reader. Natasha retreated and placed the device on a counter.

“File name Soldier. Passcode Qh1eiH7k87. It will give you Victor’s coordinates. He, he did not say…” the words were coming harder, but Marisha smirked ironically. “He was never one for sharing, believed I would follow without question. I recognized the man he sent me after; I did not like Victor disappearing away with such a weapon. I slipped a tracker on the soldier. He should be with Victor. Maybe your partner will as well.” Marisha stared at Natasha, the dying fire within her eyes blazing with one last demand: “No more children.”

“No more children,” Natasha promised. She paused for a second before offering, Marisha’s tortured breathing too loud in her ears and the gun at Natasha’s back too heavy. “I can make it quick.” When it looked like Marisha would refuse, she continued. “You have suffered enough. You have earned your warrior’s death. It does not need to be drawn out, there is no one else here.”

The dying assassin held Natasha’s gaze before nodding. Natasha drew her gun and put a bullet between her eyes. Marisha Belinskaya was finally at rest. 

Natasha stood there for a few moments, letting the enormity of what she’d done pass over her. They used to be friends; as close as one could in the ruthless program they were prisoners to. They fought and disagreed over many things, but neither of them enjoyed seeing the little ones, the ones too new and not yet broken, suffer. It was easier the older the children got, easier to ignore they were once toddlers crying out for parents, clutching teddy bears and terrified of the dark.

They were that age when they befriended each other, recently taken from homes and families neither could remember now. They struck up a friendship in the dark, seeking comfort when none could be given. It didn’t last long. As they grew older and their instructors caught on, they were pitted against one another. It started small, exploiting their competitiveness and pushing them to duel each other. But it quickly grew to more, where the winner would be rewarded and the loser punished. Food would be withheld. Blankets confiscated in the winter. The withheld items would always be showered on the winner. The winner beaten if she tried to share. When you are starving and frozen, things like friendship matter little. The Red Room excelled at breaking things, remaking them the way they wanted, but… they were still broken beneath the surface.

Natasha buried her emotions and memories deep and away. Maybe she will talk to Clint about it, when all was said and done. But probably not. This was her burden. Her weakness. Her shame.

Natasha quickly got to work, gathering anything useful and destroying the rest, not sparing the cooling body of her former friend a second glance.

++++++++++++++++++++

Tony was silent when Natasha walked onto the jet 10 minutes later. She knew he saw what happened from the hidden cameras, heard her conversation with Marisha. Natasha thrust the laptop to Tony as she made her way to the cockpit. She was not in the mood for chatter.

“I’m so – what about – are you going to leave her there?”

Natasha said nothing as the jet rose silently in the air. The nose of the aircraft faced the building Marisha was in. Marisha had been tired, she had been slipping. She could see it in the blonde’s eyes and movements. Natasha thumbed off the safety and fired the missiles, letting them obliterate everything inside. Marisha would have wanted it this way, she decided as she watched the structure burn.

Tony gaped at her, at the smoldering remains in the clearing over. “What about her family,” he managed to say around a dry mouth. “Surely they’d – “

“ _I_ am her family,” Natasha growled, engaging the engines and steering them home.

Tony’s mouth snapped shut and he retreated to the rear passenger compartment, musing over what he witnessed. He was certain Natasha hadn’t meant to let that part out and, from what he heard (thank Jarvis for translating the Russian from the surveillance cameras), the two had seemed familiar. Close even, at one point. He briefly wondered if this was why Natasha had been so caustic with the others, why she adamantly refused to allow Steve to follow her.

Tony pushed the thoughts from his mind as he alerted the team they were on their way and began dissecting the contraband Natasha recovered. There would be time later to worry, but right now they needed to focus on finding and rescuing their missing comrades.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round two posting this, but I added 500 words to it, so maybe a happy error. Hope you enjoy!

  
Clint had been dozing slightly next to Bucky when the loud stomps of Victor reached his ears. He had insisted the archer get his rest while they could, Bucky readily volunteering first watch with guilt still hanging over him. They had been left alone after Victor’s “test”, Bucky counting the ridges of the stone walls to pass time.

Bucky gently nudged the other man awake, passing Clint his hearing aids so he could be tuned in to whatever nonsense Victor was going to prattle on about. Bucky was tempted a few seconds not to give them back to Clint – Victor sounded plenty angry based on the thundering footsteps and Clint seemed to incense the man further with his retorts – but Bucky would not hamper his teammate like that.

Clint and Bucky got to their feet, a minor display of defiance but one they both felt worth showing. They watched through the bars as the irate man finally came in view. Victor was near trembling in his fury, eyes burning and teeth bared.

Bucky could see Clint’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. Natasha, Bucky realized with a jolt. Whatever had made their captor so cross had to do with Natasha not following his plans. Bucky wanted to reprimand Clint for being reckless, but he could understand the other man’s impudence. The blond seemed to have problems with authority (and narcissistic assholes) rivalling Bucky.

“Your partner has cost me the last of my Widows,” Victor said without preamble, glaring straight at Clint’s smug face. “Destroyed her sister like the vile thing you corrupted her into being! While I cannot take it out on Natalia – there is still hope she may yet return under my guiding hand – I can on you.” Victor snapped his fingers and Bucky jolted to attention. Bucky shivered internally, his body once again hijacked and bent to another’s will. 

Clint did not spare Bucky a second glance, maintaining eye contact with the Russian madman. Clint was a stubborn bastard. He knew Victor would do as he pleased, but he would not falter or waver, not show him fear.

Victor didn’t seem to care, face twisted cruelly as he leveled the glare right back at his prisoner. “The Black Widow took my loyal subject, it is only fitting I take _hers_.”

“Barton,” Bucky warned but it was too late as he buried his fist into Clint’s torso.

Clint gasped for air, curling his arms around himself and trying to move out of Bucky’s reach. The former Winter Soldier hauled him back by the collar of the blond’s shirt, jerking the material hard and pulling Clint off balance. Clint landed hard on his back on the stone floor, wheezing as air was once more forced from his lungs.

Bucky dragged Clint to his feet, gritting his teeth. “No,” Bucky ground out, fighting with all he had to regain control over his body. His nerves started humming but Bucky’s next punch missed its mark, glancing off the side of Clint’s torso rather than his gut. Bucky focused even more as he took aim for Clint’s face, the blow losing some of its normal energy but still hitting its mark. The hum intensified, prickling and bleeding needles into his insides. “No… Not this, not this!”

The blows continued despite the monumental effort it took to lessen the force; a human body can only withstand so many blows by a metal fist and Bucky was determined not to kill his teammate. All the while Victor stood on the other side of the bars, crowing with glee. The man was chortling, taunting Clint for taking Natasha away, for making her turn on her home and country. On Victor himself.

For Bucky, their captor praised his effectiveness, lamented he was ill suited for espionage, but still a formidable weapon at his disposal. “Once a weapon, always a weapon,” Victor proclaimed. “You are proof that even if my Natalia refuses, she will still be mine!”

Bucky gritted his teeth when Clint first began to falter, his steps clumsy as the taller assassin tried to dodge (dodge but never fight back, Clint never made an offensive move against the reformed sniper). “I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, “I can’t stop. He won’t let me stop.”

And it was true, Victor appeared to have no intention of stopping, smiling wickedly as each blow rained down, basking in the success of his implanted device’s trial run. And with each hit, Bucky hoped Steve or Natasha would get here. He knew they were coming, Victor was at least certain ‘Natalia’ would show. They just had to hold out a little longer. He just had to fight a little harder…

The next blow caught Clint in the ribs, sending him reeling into the wall. Bucky hesitated, fighting against the commands controlling him and somehow managing to halt his body, at least temporarily.

Victor frowned, displeased at the obvious resistance. “What are you doing? Keep going!” When it failed to compel his newest acquisition into action, Victor shouted to the ceiling in Russian, no doubt spurring someone in the control room to action when Bucky still had not budged.

The threats must have worked because shortly after the electrical impulses racing through him increased three fold, the pain overwhelming. Bucky could feel his traitorous body step closer to his friend. “Clint…” Bucky didn’t know if it was an apology, a warning, or a plea.

Clint looked up at him beneath black eyes and a face more swollen than a pufferfish. There was blood staining his teeth and Clint didn’t look like he was even trying to hold himself up anymore as he sagged against the cell wall. “ ‘M sorry, Bucky.” The words were mumbled but the use of his first name for the first time since they met began twisting in Bucky’s gut like a knife. “Is s’okay.”

And Bucky wanted to pretend that Clint wasn’t apologizing to him for Clint not being stronger, that Clint’s human body couldn’t withstand an enhanced soldier with a metal arm pummeling him to death. Pretend that Clint wasn’t consoling him because they were out of time, that Bucky was once more being controlled. Pretend that Clint wasn’t comforting Bucky when in all likelihood he was going to be forced to end Clint’s life.

But Clint was still smiling, not grimacing or forced, but reassuring. As if he was used to people betraying him, as if Bucky killing him was an acceptable outcome. There was no judgement or accusation in his eyes and Bucky wished there was. He wished there was anger and loathing, everything Bucky was already directing at himself.

Clint went down with the next hit and didn’t move. His eyes were shut. Bucky was too shocked to realize his arm was already cocked back and striking the downed man. And then everything caught up and Bucky wept at the lifeless form at his feet, even as his flesh hand curled around Clint’s form and his metal arm dragged back to deliver another devastating blow –

“I think that’s enough for the day,” a dispassionate voice came over the intercom and Bucky felt a jolt through his entire body as the programming in his spine went dormant. “We wouldn’t want to wear our test subject out too much.” Bucky gasped and stumbled backwards, releasing the grip on his teammate. He sank to his knees, desperately fighting off the implant’s shockwaves reverberating through him.

Victor hummed in response. “You are the inventor, I will rely on your assessment. Besides,” Victor said, staring down at his two prisoners, “I believe the lesson has been learned.”

The words floated over Bucky as he struggled to drag breath in his seizing lungs. He didn’t hear Victor leave. The room spun and darkness ringed his vision – a side effect of the chip shutting off, he learned. But he couldn’t embrace darkness, the protection from his screaming nerve endings. Clint. He had to check on Clint.

Bucky smashed his flesh hand into the stone floor, the bones shifting and the pain lancing through his knuckles and up his arm. It worked, the darkness receding in the face of his boxer’s break. Bucky took a few steadying breaths before he could work up the strength to crawl over to the prone form. Each drag across the floor set his still screaming nerves alight. He had to pause once or twice, prod his broken hand and take a few deep breaths. It felt like ages before he made it to Clint’s side.

Bucky bent close to the bloody face, trembling hands searching for a pulse…. It was there. Slow, but there. And Bucky could hear breath rattling in Clint’s throat. Tears spilled anew as he bowed his head, as he let everything wash through him. He nearly killed his friend, may still end up killing him before time is through. 

Bucky checked over Clint’s injuries although he knew there was nothing to be done. There were no cuts to be stitched, no blood to be staunched. Clint’s most severe injuries were going to be internal; broken bones, head trauma, internal bleeding, damaged organs… too many possibilities with the potential to be fatal and nothing he could do to stop or repair them.

Bucky would have prayed for help to arrive soon if he thought it would do anything. It never worked when Hydra scientists scraped away his mind, pumped him full of chemicals. If Clint had lacerated organs or significant internal bleeding… nausea rolled through Bucky and he fought his roiling stomach. He switched his focus to the present, on Clint still crumpled on the ground.

Bucky tried to arrange Clint comfortably on the floor, but every movement punched an anguished groan from the archer’s lungs and all Bucky could think of was how he was making things worse, putting his friend in more pain. But if Clint had the internal injuries he suspected, things would only get worse. The pain would increase, nausea, fever, tremors... 

Bucky didn’t believe in a higher power, hadn’t since the war, relying on himself and his men to get through impossible odds. When Hydra took him apart piece by piece, Bucky still had himself, his fortitude and determination to carry him through. Locked in this cell he still had those things, but they wouldn’t do any good for Clint. Clint who may be dying beside him this very moment. Clint who believed Bucky could fight off this mind control, Clint who still believed in _him_. 

Bucky swallowed and bowed his head. He didn’t believe in prayer, but that may be the only thing he could do for the other man after putting him in this state. Bucky doubted Victor cared about their wellbeing. _His_ well-being, Bucky reminded himself, eyes lingering over the still Avenger. Victor made it plenty clear he cared nothing for Clint, despised his existence, but Bucky he would preserve. If Clint survived these injuries he could only expect torture and a painful death. In the end, Bucky prayed the others would find them quickly and if they couldn’t, that Clint would die peacefully in his sleep. It was all he could do now for the beaten archer, his friend…

Bucky dragged himself to the wall next to Clint, hand – his flesh one, he could never let the metal one touch Clint again after all the destruction it wrought – resting on his shoulder near the man’s pulse. He didn’t know if they knew Clint was alive, didn’t want to give it away if they didn’t. But he couldn’t let Clint out of his sight and figured the touch was worth the risk, maybe they would assume it was an act of guilt, of despair. Not that he believed they could feel such emotions. Bucky’s eyes slid shut as nausea overwhelmed him again, the atrocities Hydra forced him to commit dancing shadow-like behind his eyes. He could still hear the screams, flashes of images, casualties of the Winter Soldier‘s brutality stretched across the decades overlapped with the past 24 hours. But unlike before, it wasn’t the Soldier felling a friend. It was Bucky Barnes.

With despair smothering him, Bucky gave into the pain he pushed away to make it to Clint. He gladly embraced the darkness he had held at bay, giving in to its refuge and peace.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the delay! It’s been... well, it’s been a nightmare this past month. But I’m hoping it’ll get smoother. Not to mention this chapter was a beast to get through. It was the least developed and has now tripled in size the past couple of weeks. Again, this is all written, but the editing process can be more of a chainsaw/blowtorch remodel vs scalpel. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and everyone stays safe and well!

Tony didn’t speak the entire ride back and Natasha was thankful. He already knew the world was ugly; this little side trip only reinforcing it. He – and the Avengers – may have not understood her reasoning for hiding parts of herself, but after this encounter Natasha could only hope Tony at least now realized that if she didn’t tell him or the others, it was that she was protecting them. From the looks out of the corner of her eyes, she could tell he understood. Understood what she did not say. This was her world. It was ugly and evil, but it was where she grew up. If she kept secrets, it was to shield them from it. They did not need to see or hear about such evil. Which was why she was going to raze the Red Room and all whoever had a hand in it.

Natasha didn’t claim many things – people, possessions, whatever – but Clint was one of them. And she did not do well when they were threatened or damaged. Her mind briefly reminded her of Barnes, of the other Avengers who may be on their way there. She viciously beat it back; whatever the Avengers were to her or her to them, she knew it would be forever changed after this mission.

When they landed nearly four hours after they first departed the tower, Natasha had to hide her surprise when there was no mob to fight off as she disembarked. She had expected to be swarmed with condemnations for what went down at the warehouse or at least questions. There were neither. There was no one there.

When the inventor fell into step beside her, Natasha realized why. Tony, she mused, he must have warned them or told them about the fight – or had Jarvis patch the live feed. No matter. She would not object to the reason if it meant they left her alone about what happened. All she wanted was to slip quietly off to her quarters to wash the blood of her sister off her. With a pang, Natasha realized she was truly alone now. The last Widow. The ache of that revelation forged into determination. She was the last Black Widow now and would kill to make sure it stayed that way. 

_No more children,_ Marisha had demanded. Natasha would give her dying breath to keep that promise.

Natasha’s relief was short-lived as the elevator doors opened to an anxious Steve. She didn’t see but knew Banner would have been lurking somewhere in the background as well. Natasha put on her Black Widow face, the demeanor immediately registering with the team’s leader.

Steve stiffened. “What happened.”

It wasn’t a question but an order, one Natasha had no plans on answering.

“We recovered a laptop, it should lead us to the location,” Tony answered.

“Natasha?” The redhead finally met Steve’s eyes. “What happened?”

Tony opened his mouth to answer but Natasha beat him to it with a bitter snort. “What does it matter? The job is done. Tony and Bruce can pick through the laptop.” Natasha slipped past the blond, making her way down to her apartment. “Now that my part’s done, I’m going to shower and rest.” Natasha waved her hand dismissively as she walked away, knowing it would irk the man who hated being kept out of the loop. “Alert me when we have an exact location.”

Tony could see the irritation bubbling in Steve’s eyes, Natasha’s cavalier attitude rankling the other man’s sense of procedure and post-mission debriefings. But Tony wasn’t fooled, had observed the solemnity at the end with Marisha, the flash of fear when Natasha saw Steve standing there when the doors opened. Tony was an expert on deflection and Rule Number 1 was distraction. Best way to distract someone was with anger, and it was all too easy for Natasha to wind an already tense Steve up so he would miss the real issue.

Natasha was rattled. Natasha was grieving. If Tony hadn’t been listening in on that warehouse fight, hadn’t read the files Natasha provided and hadn’t spoken with her before and after, he was certain he would have missed it, too. Tony realized that none of them probably knew the real Natasha Romanoff (or whatever her name truly was); except for maybe one Clint Barton. And right there Tony Stark swore to himself that he would stand beside the reclusive Black Widow until her partner returned. No one should be alone.

Only question was, how to keep the others even keeled until that happened.

To the captain’s credit, Steve only firmed his jaw and took a few deep breaths before turning back to Tony. His voice was actually level when he spoke next. “Tony, any injuries or problems I should be aware of?”

“None on my end, I don’t think anything disabling on Natasha’s but I’ll have Jarvis check in on her.”

Steve nodded and Tony could still see the tension in his frame – the injury report lessening but not relieving it.

“I don’t know if I should ask right now, but… what happened out there, Tony?”

“It’s done, Cap,” Tony sighed, feeling more weary than he expected to be. He was still getting used to this, worrying about others and being the one to offer solace and keep everyone together. Pepper was always better at this, always knew what to say and what to hold back. “Let’s just focus on getting a location and shutting down Assassins ‘R Us, okay?”

Steve placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder, concern etched in every line. In his periphery, Tony noticed Bruce pausing in his work to look over as well. Tony knew what Steve was asking, but he struggled for the words. Everything in the past 24 hours had a clandestine, shadowy underworld feel to it, it wasn’t what he was used to and at the same time reminded him too much of Stane and his captivity in Afghanistan. This was why he did everything loud and in the open. Under the table deals and secrets killed too many people in Tony's name with his weapons sold on the black market, nearly killed Tony himself not too long ago. 

“It’s a different world, Cap,” Tony answered quietly. “Natasha…” Tony struggled for words again. He didn’t want to talk about what happened at the warehouse, what else he discovered on Marisha’s laptop; documents on the Red Room’s historical and current training and assignments clouding his mind. It made him sick. It also made him relieved that Clint and Natasha were handling it. That they took on that burden and Tony didn’t have to dive deep into and confront that evil daily. Or at all. 

Steve was still waiting for an answer. Except it wasn't Tony's to give.

“She knows what she’s doing,” Tony decided finally. “There’s going to be some things… Hell, I just say we trust the woman and go get our boys,” he snapped. “Nothing’s changed. We’re still Avengers.”

Steve studied the older man shrewdly, as Tony carried the laptop to their makeshift workspace. The man had looked lost but not frightened when he said the redheaded assassin’s name, despite skirting the topic about what really happened. A quick glance to the scientist revealed Bruce didn’t know what happened either.

Steve pushed it aside. For now. He would seek out answers later, instead turning his focus back to Bruce and Tony trying to isolate the tracker that Natasha’s contact managed to slip on Bucky. From what Steve could gather, even on the laptop they were granted access to, the user had encrypted the program and the signal was bouncing around the globe, making it difficult to pin down.

The night passed in the same fashion. Natasha didn’t emerge from her quarters the rest of the evening. The two geniuses took shifts sleeping at Steve’s behest; they needed to be ready for battle as soon as they got a location. Steve – although growing more proficient in technology – didn’t have the skills necessary to aid the two men in their work. Instead, he busied himself with what he always did: taking care of his team.

He made sure Bruce and Tony had plenty of food and drink, occasionally getting something other than coffee down the billionaire’s throat before Tony sputtered in realization at the switch. Steve also asked Jarvis about Natasha, asking if she tended to any injuries – she did – and their severity. He could infer from the AI’s flustered tone that the conversation probably ended with a knife embedded in the ceiling or wall.

Steve was tempted to check on his rogue teammate personally before deciding against it. Natasha was a private person as is and this whole mission for information only seemed to exacerbate it. Steve had done his best to ignore the tension in his returning teammates, the smudges of blood on the recovered laptop and Natasha's clothes. He knew whatever happened was bad, that things hadn’t gone the way they expected. He wondered if the Black Widow was hurting underneath the abrasive exterior she projected when she came back. Steve’s desire to help and fix/solve compelled him to demand the story from the tight-lipped spy...

But Steve had enough self-awareness to know he wasn’t in a good state of mind to handle such a delicate conversation as that. He had his own guilt to contend with at his teammates’ capture, anxiety that Bucky would once again be unmade – the man had been through so much already, Steve didn’t know if he could put Bucky back together again if he shattered once more.

Like many things post 1940s, Steve wasn’t familiar with the Red Room; but to be fair, neither was Bruce. After the Quinjet took off, the pair began looking into whatever information was available on the group and their related activities. The information was slim, most redacted in a way that would take Jarvis a while to parse out, and so they redirected the AI’s efforts to looking for any mentions of the Winter Soldier or Hawkeye. But what they did find out on the defunct program disturbed Steve. It sounded too much like Hydra for his comfort.

So Steve held off, bit his tongue about what the other two were hiding and did what he could to support his teammates here. Tony and Bruce were easy. They were both open in their own gregarious way. They would be easy to handle if they got – no, not _if_ , _when_ – their team back. Going forward, there would be minimal to no bumps for them to smooth out and work together as a team. 

Bucky and Clint, it would all depend on what state they found the two in. Bucky was resilient. Despite Steve’s constant worry and hovering – and wasn’t _that_ a change from their youth – Bucky was a survivor and weathered Hydra’s torture for decades. And Clint always had a smile on his face, always joking even when he was half buried under a building and barely consciousness. Steve didn’t know much of the archer’s background, but Clint didn’t seem to be the type to wallow in the past or hold on to the bad. He was mischievous, often dragging Tony and occasionally Bucky into his schemes or pranks. 

The thing with Natasha… well, he was learning there was more to her than he initially thought. Since the Battle of Manhattan, they had all come a long way from unlikely allies to becoming something more, something like a family. Even the more secretive spies of the group had opened up more, becoming part of the team. The past 24 hours really showed how far they still had to go, especially with the former Russian assassin.

Steve resolved to make an effort to better understand, to relate to Natasha. He could feel the elusive spy growing more distant as time stretched from Bucky and Clint's abduction. Steve didn't know how to fix it, how to cross that chasm that seemed to open up the minute she mentioned the Red Room. He knew it would have to come from him. Natasha wouldn't make the move; simply drift further away from him, from the team. Steve didn't want that, despite his horror at Natasha's uncompromising views on killing anyone connected with the clandestine Russian spy program. He missed the friendship he had begun forming with the enigmatic Black Widow. 

Maybe he’ll talk to Clint before reaching out to the lone woman on the team. Of the two former Shield agents, Clint was easier to read. He seemed to be a bridge between the Black Widow, covert Shield operations and the rest of the team. It still seemed hard to believe the energetic and goofy archer was involved in the missions Natasha alluded to, but it was a matter for another day. First thing was to rescue their friends and possible child abductees. The rest could be sorted out later.

++++++++++++++++++++

Natasha emerged from her room shortly after dawn; around the time the other two men exclaimed they had a location. Nothing was said about the previous night although Steve caught Tony shooting the quiet woman concerned glances when he didn't think she was looking – she was, even Steve could see Natasha steadfastly trying to ignore Tony. However, when Natasha didn't snap at him, when she didn't hurl something at the engineer, Steve realized that Natasha was more tolerant of such sentiment than she would be normally. This only reinforced Steve's idea that Natasha was hurting inside to not be rejecting the comfort, that something happened on that trip that changed the two’s relationship. Steve reminded himself there would be time to worry and ponder over his teammates’ states later and turned back to the group planning. 

The plan was simple, although Steve didn’t like it. 

Victor Yegorov was rebuilding the Red Room training program. He wanted Natasha – or “Natalia” as she was known – to be a part of it. Victor thought Natasha was a confused and petulant child who lost her way. He believed he could “reeducate” her, get her back under control and train a new generation of Black Widows like the small child used to lure Hawkeye. Natasha explained that Victor would want a demonstration, would want her to prove that she was still worthy of the mantle ‘Black Widow’. Steve didn't know how many Black Widows were left, but Natasha seemed convinced that Victor wanted to reform her – not kill her as Tony initially suggested after Victor's video – and that Victor required her to prove herself. 

“That will be the distraction you need,” Natasha said. “I will be keeping Victor occupied at the front while Steve can sneak in through the back.”

The backside of the fortress was a sheer cliff. Tony’s Ironman suit wasn’t subtle and would be easily spotted. The Hulk would be too unpredictable knowing his playmates were being held prisoner and he had never been known for his stealth. It would be up to Steve to scale the cliff face and then work his way through the structure. Tony had given him something to help camouflage his ascent up the peak, but once he was inside he needed to rely on Victor’s people being preoccupied with Natasha. Tony was hoping he could gain access to Victor’s cameras based on the pilfered laptop to search for their missing teammates and conceal Steve's presence. Then it was a matter of securing the two men before Ironman and Hulk could aid Natasha with a frontal assault. They couldn’t risk Victor discovering them too early, Natasha believing Victor would either take the missing Avengers with him or kill them.

“What sort of distraction will you be providing,” Steve couldn’t help but ask. Natasha was convinced this would be their in, Natasha turning herself over to Victor and Tony backed her play immediately. Bruce, although reluctant, followed shortly. Steve was less certain. “What demonstration do you have to do?”

“Victor will send some disposable muscle to confront me. I'll have to make my way through them to the inner circle for a final test.” Natasha shrugged as if it were an inconvenience instead of a battle to the death.

Tony curiously held his tongue and it was Bruce’s shock that broke the silence. “So, what, he’s going to send an army for you to fight?” Bruce knew Natasha would be responsible for keeping Victor occupied, but he hadn’t thought too long about what all that entailed.

“Possible but unlikely. He doesn’t have that many soldiers at his disposal.”

“Then how many?”

“A dozen or so, probably scattered throughout the structure with varying degrees of difficulty and skills.”

“And what, he’s putting you through a Battle Royale?”

“Widows are trained to be lethal in all forms of combat. I’ll be fine. It will also provide enough of a cover for Steve to breach the castle and find our boys. Simple.”

And it was that simple. 

Except it really wasn’t. Steve couldn’t understand how Natasha was so calm, so accepting about everything. In a few hours she was going up against numerous armed combatants on her own, all who were apparently instructed to kill her, all whom Natasha herself would probably have to kill as well. From the very beginning, this entire ordeal was obviously personal for Natasha and he tried to understand, but he still couldn’t grasp her drive or why it was. Why she was so set on following Victor's "rules" on this presentation of her skills in battle. How she could be so cavalier about a life, including her own, for this warrior gauntlet Victor devised. 

“How will you know if you pass?” Bruce finally asked. 

“Easy, I’m still alive.”

Simple. Easy. One look at Bruce and Steve knew he wasn't the only one with doubts. But Tony was backing Natasha, Natasha had the knowledge of Victor and they had no better strategy. So Steve put it to rest, for now. Trusting his teammates knew what they were doing, that they could all do their jobs in rescuing their friends. 

As they began to gear up for the mission, Steve snuck a quick glance at Natasha's impassive face. Throughout all of this, she had not faltered or lost her cool. He wondered how she was handling it all, the worry, the fear. She was getting ready as if this was any other mission while Steve felt his insides were tied in knots. Steve pushed the errant thoughts away, there would be time for it later, and reminded himself to talk with Clint about everything when they brought him and Bucky home. After all, he thought as he flashed Tony an uneasy smile, it was supposed to be “simple”.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had a good excuse for why this was delayed, after the very late chapter 6, I’d hoped to have this posted over the weekend. On the plus side, this chapter doubled in size the past week during the editing process, so hopefully that will make it up!

They were ready to leave an hour after they finished planning. So far, they had kept everything from the press, from Pepper and Rhodey. Natasha was insistent that there be no publicity and Steve hadn’t hesitated in agreeing. Tony was more reluctant, not enjoying the idea of lying to the people who mattered most but his resolve was never tested — Pepper was on the west coast for a board meeting and Colonel Rhodes deployed elsewhere. The last thing the team needed was to spook Victor or let some enterprising supervillain know of their fracture.

They dropped Steve off at the base of the cliff. They had hoped to get their leader closer, but there was no way to tell how sophisticated Victor’s defenses were. There was an outcropping of rocks further down the coastline that helped mask the jet as Steve dropped into the choppy water with his pack and shield. A kick board with propellers strapped to the sides had Steve speeding through the water to the base of the precipice. 

The cliff face was thankfully not smooth, made up of jagged rocks jutting over the water, but Steve would be free climbing and even with the special tech Tony whipped up to create handholds where there weren’t any, it would be slow going. The real trick would be reaching the window they marked as his entry point, 6 feet above where the rocky bluff ended. Tony seemed certain the gloves he was fastening on the super soldier would work the same on the smooth surface and Steve had no choice but to trust him. He pretended not to notice when Natasha slipped a mini self-propelled grappling hook into his pack — Clint’s back up he realized when he caught sight of the purple detailing — it wouldn’t do to flaunt his doubt in Tony’s invention in front of the man. 

Natasha had circled around a bit, giving Steve the chance to start the treacherous climb before officially making her approach to Victor’s fortress. They were a day and a half early for Victor’s timeline, but Natasha and the others were anxious to get their teammates back. Bruce could understand Natasha and Steve’s anxiety — Natasha and Clint were as close as Steve and Bucky, and Natasha knew their foe unlike the rest of them. Tony’s anxiety was also pronounced and he could only infer to the reason stemming from the mission the engineer had with Natasha. Bruce had asked him lowly, when Steve wasn’t hovering over them compulsively, what happened. He and Tony had a different relationship than the rest of the team, all started the first time Tony decided to shock him to test his control over the Big Guy. 

Tony was silent a moment before answering. “There are files on the laptop, Red Room related. Natasha’s explanation didn’t scratch the surface.” 

That didn’t surprise Bruce. What did surprise him was the intensity with which Tony slammed the laptop shut after catching Bruce snooping — Tony, the king of never leaving anything alone was affronted by someone else doing the same thing. Tony didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Leave it alone, Bruce. You don’t want to know and it’s none of our business.” 

Bruce was a curious guy, but if Tony was warning him off something then he would take his word. Truthfully, Bruce didn’t want to know what was on the laptop. Didn’t like to think of what Natasha’s childhood had been like, that there might be more people out there like her, full grown or children, it didn’t matter. 

The majority of the team had rough childhoods and Bruce was not exempt from that group. It made them more accepting of those quirks, boundary and trust issues that carried from childhood. While accepting and more than willing to listen to his teammates if they were to approach him about those less than idyllic early years, Bruce was secretly relieved they were all emotionally stunted and didn't bring them to his doorstep. Bruce had tried to make peace with his own violent past, but it always bothered him more than he cared to acknowledge. So Bruce let it drop and continued to support his teammates.

The first part of the rescue operation was physically easy for Bruce and Tony, having to wait for the signal to engage. But neither one had been good at waiting while someone else was doing the hard or dangerous work. Bruce had years of meditation and he could still feel himself on edge, the Other Guy chomping at the bit to be let loose, to rescue his friends and pummel their captors. Tony thankfully was charged with gaining access to Victor's computer systems and surveillance. Bruce knew the frenetic genius was never one to be sidelined and was glad he had some distraction to keep him from going crazy. That was the _last_ thing Bruce needed while trying to keep Hulk under wraps. 

Bruce hadn’t hesitated to join the group, could feel the Hulk’s displeasure at the thought of being left behind. As it were, the only thing keeping The Other Guy under wraps when his friends were in danger was the promise that there would be plenty of bad guys and things for him to smash after they secured the missing Avengers.

In the meantime, all Bruce and Tony had to do was remain inside the aircraft until Steve had Bucky and Clint with him. Steve had been skeptical about leaving the two men in the jet, worried Victor would send guards or someone to investigate it, become suspicious it was parked at a slight distance or read heat signatures. Natasha assured them Victor wouldn’t think anyone else was coming. Widows were solitary creatures and he viewed her relationship with Hawkeye as a lapse in judgement, a fluke. Tony and Bruce would remain on standby and try to gain remote access to the computer systems and cameras.

They watched as Natasha loaded up on weapons.

“More knives,” Bruce asked. “Wouldn’t firearms make more sense going up against an army?”

“Victor wants a test, he already knows my proficiency in firearms but what Black Widows are experts in is close quarters combat.” She met his eyes. “This is supposed to be a show for him and the more he is entertained, the less focused he will be on Rogers’ breaking and entering. Besides,” Natasha drawled, testing out the charge on her Widow bites, “firearms would make this over too quickly.”

Despite the talk, Bruce noticed she did pick up her standard two pistols.

“These will be backups if things go awry,” she explained at the questioning look. Natasha tapped the comm in her ear. “How’s it looking, Cap?”

“Just peachy,” came the grunted reply. “Almost to the top.”

Stark snickered. “What’s the matter, old man? Someone been slacking on the cardio?”

“Good idea, Tony,” Steve shot back. “Remind me to add a rock wall component for our next team training.”

Tony groaned as Bruce gave him a look. “What are you looking at,” Tony snapped back. “Hulk would probably crush the damn thing.”

A smile ghosted across Natasha’s face before she turned serious. “Well, time for me to make my big entrance.” She tossed her hair back, not hiding a twisted smirk, her teeth gleaming and appearing more shark like. “I’ll try to save some of the little ones for you.”

++++++++++++++++++++

Natasha casually picked her way to Victor’s fortress, smiling up at the cameras outside the entrance. Tony had been cursing up a storm in her ear about not being able to access the cameras but Natasha’s strut hadn’t so much as slowed at the news. 

“I am here, Victor, just as you wanted.” She kept the words in English to benefit her colleagues. Natasha had a feeling Victor would do the same, not that he considered the henchman he was preparing to throw at her “colleagues”.

The doors opened and Natasha raised an eyebrow. Victor’s voice boomed out to greet her. “Welcome Natalia! I see you have gotten my message.”

“And I have returned. You will release my Hawk now?” 

Natasha could hear Victor’s grin through the speakers. “In good time, in good time. But first, a test, yes?”

Natasha smirked, readying her blades. “I expect nothing less.”

“And Natalia, no weapons,” Victor chided. “It would not be sporting.”

“Widows don’t play fair,” Natasha replied, twirling the daggers in her hands. “They play to win.”

With that she hurled herself into Victor’s fortress, the stone door sliding shut resolutely behind her.

++++++++++++++++++++

It took Steve less time than they thought to scale the fortress, Tony’s gadgets taking the time of trying to find handholds out of the trek. Tony was muttering away in Steve’s ear when the device he designed failed to work on the smooth, reinforced stone walls. Steve used Clint’s self-propelled grappling hook and entered the building without issue as Tony continued to troubleshoot.

Steve began making his way silently through the buildings as the sounds of Natasha’s “test” echoed in his ears. Natasha occasionally traded jabs with Victor, his taunts picking up through the Black Widow’s comms. It seemed almost normal, as if she were verbally sparring with Clint during a battle or training exercise. Her tone was light, purposefully so, Steve imagined. Feeding into the delusion of the prodigal pupil returning to her instructor. Steve recalled the ice in Natasha’s eyes when she spoke of Victor, when she pulled up his picture.

Steve had cleared a few hallways on the main floor, keeping to the rear of the building. After checking in with Natasha — answering in whispers muffled by cries of pain and the clang of metal — that she was still occupied on the main floor, Steve searched for a way down lower. So far he had not ran into anyone and while at first glance that appeared to be a good thing, it had the veteran worried. From the gleeful voice of Victor when Natasha first started the fight, it had seemed the former Russian spy was completely absorbed in the battle. But Steve had made entry near 10 minutes prior, he should have encountered someone. And Tony had never gained control nor access to the cameras…

“Widow, how’s it looking?”

“What do you see, Cap,” Bruce answered instead.

“Nothing, and that’s the problem. Widow, is Victor still paying attention to the fight or does he seem distracted?”

“What are you thinking, golden boy,” Tony’s frown evident in his tone.

“Something’s not right. There’s no way someone doesn’t know I’m here, but there’s no one.”

Natasha tuned the banter out, focusing on the kukri wielding duo in front of her. The two women were highly skilled, landing a few slashes while the other distracted, but they were still not Widow material. Natasha shot a widow bite at the one in front of her before kicking out at the woman behind her. Before the rear woman could recover, Natasha had already arced around and slashed at her throat.

As she dispatched the last foe from Victor’s latest batch of combatants, her breath only slightly heavier than normal, Natasha flashed a smile up at the pervasive cameras observing her bloody trail through the building. 

“I am disappointed,” Natasha called out to the omnipresent voice critiquing her progress through the castle. “I thought you would send me a bigger challenge.”

There was no reply and Natasha frowned, wiping her blades on the fallen fighter‘s uniform. “Speed it up, Cap,” Natasha muttered before pitching her voice louder. “Komandir?”

There was no response and Natasha stripped her fallen enemies of their weapons, the playful expression falling off her face and replaced with burning fury.

“Cap’s right, something’s up.”

“What’s the play?”

“I’m going after Victor, find the others,” Natasha growled as she took off in a sprint.

The silence only last for a minute before Victor clicked back on the speaker system, but it was a lifetime for Natasha. Victor was smart, of course he would pick up on Steve sneaking through the stronghold. She only hoped that she bought Steve enough time to make progress. Natasha cursed herself for not picking up on Victor’s distraction sooner.

“I am disappointed, Natalia,” Victor’s voice reverberated off the walls and fueled Natasha’s growing hatred. “I had hoped you could join me side by side, but it seems you have forgotten your training. Remember, child, what happens to those who fail.”

The halls began to flood with hostiles, automatic firearms instead of less lethal forms of weapons she previously encountered. Natasha did not pause, slashing out with the stolen kukri in one hand, the other retrieving her trusty pistol.

“What happens next is all on you.”

And then all hell broke loose.

++++++++++++++++++++

Bucky dipped the shredded cloth back into the water and gently wiped at Clint’s face. Someone had left a meager meal and some water in the cell while he had been unconscious. The thought of food turned his stomach so he ignored the offering in favor of tending to his teammate. What little he could do, that was. 

Bucky had been left by himself after he was forced to beat Clint. Victor had not returned and Clint had not woken again. He was left alone with ravenous guilt and a deep-seated fear that shadowed him since he started remembering who he was.

Controlled.

Weapon.

Bucky didn’t even react when the PA system crackled to life, despondent as he was.

“It seems my wayward disciple has brought some unwanted guests,” Victor’s voice echoed over the speakers in the room, his distaste coming through clear. “I didn’t expect my protégé to invite the Avengers into this messy world, but it appears so. Natalia had always been a solitary creature; the partnership with the archer seemed a lark. Natalia used to never much like interlopers.”

When Bucky concentrated, he could hear the distant sounds of battle, explosions. The Avengers were here. His eyes closed as he tipped his head back against the cool stone, feeling relief so strong it stole his breath. And with that precious hope rising, Bucky felt the first tingling in the back of spine, recognizing it as the mind control device booting up.

“Let’s give them something to be distracted with, shall we?”

Bucky immediately flung himself to the far edge of the room, wrapping his arms around the bars on the window. “Not gonna do it,” he snarled, shaking with effort.

Victor sighed. “I don’t have time for your childish antics. Natalia came sooner than expected, I didn’t get a chance to leave a parting gift, but you will.” Victor’s voice turned cold and Bucky felt a chill as the electricity thrummed through his body, trembling as he resisted the pull.

“You will _kill_ Natalia’s little hawk.”

Bucky clenched his teeth and his whole body tensed from the fire that flowed through his nerve endings. He had to resist. He couldn’t hurt Clint. Steve was here. The Avengers were here, if he could just hold out a little longer…

A scream ripped from his throat unbidden as the intensity was turned up and his insides set ablaze.

++++++++++++++++++++

Steve could hear yelling coming from the far corridor, reverberating anguish around the stone walls.

“Bucky,” he breathed before he raised his voice louder for the comms. “Stark, update me on heat signatures on the northwest wing!”

“I got two in the far corner, Cap.” Steve could catch the whines of the Iron Man’s repulsors gearing up in the background.

“All right, I’m heading there now,” Steve said, knocking bad guys to the side as he sprinted to where the scream still seemed to echo. He didn’t wait to see if they went down, if they were following, his entire world narrowed to that fading scream. “Natasha, what’s your position?”

“I’m closing in on the main control center where Victor will be.”

The venom in the Black Widow’s voice zinged his fight or flight response. Steve swallowed and pushed the reaction aside. “Bruce?”

Steve heard the Hulk’s roar as Tony keyed up on the comms. “He’s playing whack-a-mole with the guys out front. I’ve nearly got their aircrafts disabled. Don’t want any of these rats slinking back to the shadows.”

Steve rounded another corner, eyes locking on the cell at the end. “I’ve got them, rounding the cells…”

The words died in Steve’s throat as the scene unfurled before his eyes. Clint was covered in a mess of bruises and blood, his limp body only being held aloft by the metal hand of the Winter Soldier wrapped around his neck. Steve felt his blood freeze seeing the Winter Soldier’s face instead of his friend’s, the rage in those tightened features. Steve growled as he began attacking the cell’s door.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Tony called.

Steve brought his shield down on the metal bars separating him from his teammates, but there was no give, the door firmly closed. “Something’s wrong with Bucky,” Steve managed to say. He could hear Natasha growl in response as he continued striking the door. “Bucky, you gotta let go —”

“Can’t.”

The word was forced through gritted teeth and Steve began to recognize the tightened facial muscles as concentration, as anguish. Relief flooded him, as what he thought was the Winter Soldier’s face gave way to that of his best friend, determined and defiant as always.

“What do you mean — ”

“Chip in my skull, I can’t hold it off. You’re going to have to kill me, Steve.”

“I can’t — ”

“Before I kill Clint.” Bucky’s voice broke on the archer’s name and Steve could see the tremors wracking the other man’s frame from here. “I… I think he’s still alive.”

Steve began attacking the bars in earnest, desperation driving his movements. There had to be a way in, there had to be something he could do. “Tony,” he shouted between strikes. “I need you to get to Bucky now! I can’t get the door open.”

“On it, Cap,” Tony replied. “Give me a minute.”

“It’s all right Bucky, Tony will be here and we’ll get in — ”

“Just fucking do it! Shoot me, I — I can’t…” The words choked off into a sob.

“Listen to me, Bucky, you can do this, you can fight it. You are fighting it! You’ve beaten Hydra once, you can do it again!”

Bucky’s arm was trembling; he felt his control slipping as his fingers tightened, cutting off Clint’s air supply. They twitched, wanting to squeeze harder, to break Clint’s neck. “Just do it,” Bucky begged. “Don’t let me kill him, Steve.”

Steve didn’t have a chance to answer as Bucky stiffened, every muscle locking up before he crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. With nothing to hold him up, Clint dropped to the floor as well. Steve vaguely heard the lock disengaging as he flung the door open. Bucky lay closer to the door and Steve knelt beside him first. Shaking hands quickly checking Bucky’s pulse before crouching near the unmoving form of their archer.

“I shut off the controls, how’s Clint?” Natasha’s voice was sharp, the threat of death evident.

Steve let out a breath when he finally found Clint’s pulse, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. “He’s alive, he’s breathing.”

Steve looked over at Bucky’s still form. “I’m going to need some help getting Barton and Bucky out of here.”

Steve felt the walls shake, an explosion nearby, before Iron Man strode down the hall and into the room. The chains shackling the two men quickly fell away after two repulsor blasts. “I got metal mouth if you get feathers,” Tony announced, scooping the unconscious former soldier into his arms.

Steve wanted to protest but Tony fired up his thrusters and disappeared before he could. As much as he wanted to be the one to take Bucky, to be responsible for him, Steve could see the logic to Iron Man’s choice. Even with the serum, the fight had left him slightly winded. He would have an easier time taking the archer than Bucky. Steve gathered the other man in his arms before quickly making his way out. Besides, they didn’t exactly know how Bucky was being controlled and — as much as Steve hated it — Bucky needed to be restrained until they figured it out.

“What about Victor, Natasha?”

There was a slight pause before the assassin answered. “He got away.” Steve felt a chill race down his spine, the danger in Natasha’s voice unnerving. The phrase “someone walking over your grave” flashed in Steve’s mind.

“I see a jet taking off to the west,” Tony said. “I still got Barnes, I can’t follow.”

Steve sighed as he made his way out with Clint in his arms. “We’ll get him next time. Round up Hulk and head to the jet.”

Steve shifted his focus away from the escaping villain to concentrate on the successful rescue mission. On his missing teammate in his arms. It helped, but he could still feel it rankling, prickling the hairs at the back of his neck. He never enjoyed letting the bad guy get away but he knew things didn’t always work out the way he wanted. He tried to content himself that they managed to rescue their teammates, that they were both alive and the rest of the team made it through as well. They would get Victor later. Steve tightened his grip on the unmoving archer and quickly made his way out of the castle.

In the end, the Avengers held true to their ideals and credos, no one was killed who didn’t have to be. By their hands. No one said anything about the blood soaked walls that marked Natasha’s path through the facility. Nor the fact she sent them off ahead, using Clint and Barnes’ state to force their hands, glaring hard enough to shun both Tony and Hulk’s protests to stay. No one spoke when Natasha returned hours later, freshly showered in the medical ward, her hair still slightly damp. No one paid attention to the newscaster as they spoke of an underground facility still smoldering, blood littering the halls but no bodies. There were no survivors mentioned, no enemies turned over to police.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the delay! Despite being around dogs for over two decades, I “pulled a stupid” (as my brothers would say) and while trying to help my neighbors catch their puppy, I got bit by my 11 lb pup. Not a bad bite, but it was on the meaty part of my dominant hand, so it still hurts a week later. And then got the news about my other puppy, my old little pup has a brain tumor. It’s been... it’s been 2020 through and through. 
> 
> Good news is this is almost finished and I’ve got several chapters mostly complete of the sequel/missing scenes after this. Thank you for sticking with me and hope you enjoy!

Bucky woke to a slight headache, a tingling sensation racing up and down his limbs. This wasn’t new; he had come to expect it as aftershocks from the mind control implant after it had been switched back off. But instead of the cold stone beneath him, it was soft; linens and a mattress cradling his aching his body. Bucky pulled heavy eyelids open to blink in a bright and airy room.

“Buck!” Steve’s face coming into view, relieved. “How are you feeling? Do you know where you are?”

“Like I’ve been struck by lightning. I’m guessing I’m in the Med Wing?” Bucky groaned as Steve raised the top half of the mattress to a more upright position but he appreciated the feeling of being at the same level as his friend. Bucky’s brain caught up to him quickly after the bed stopped and awareness flooded in. “Barton! How is Barton? Is he…?”

“He’s here,” Steve assured him. “He’s safe.”

Bucky heard the words, but they didn’t mean anything. After spending so many hours fretting and worrying over the injured man, his brain couldn’t process the reassurances, overwhelmed with the need to see Clint with his own eyes, to press his hand against the spy’s chest, to feel the steady thrum of his heart. “I need to see him, need to see him breathing…” The words cut off in a desperate moan when the former Winter Soldier moved too quickly, his head swimming and muscles protesting.

Steve gently pushed Bucky back onto the bed, worry tight on his face. “Take it easy there. You just had surgery to remove that chip the Red Room implanted.” Steve must have caught the fear that flashed across Bucky’s face as the rest of what happened came back to him. “You’re all right. The chip was removed; there are no lingering effects or complications. Tony’s taking it apart in the lab and analyzing the files we recovered from the computers. Based on what he’s seeing, the mind control only works if it’s implanted and attached to the spinal column. It overrides the brain’s neuromuscular impulses and substitutes it with its own.”

Bucky prodded the base of his skull, wincing as clumsy fingers irritated the tender area. Steve kept the same comforting smile plastered to his face, hands raised in a placating gesture.

Bucky exhaled, dropping his hand and pressing his head back against the soft pillow. His eyes slid shut as he tried to settle the crawling sensation over his skin. He hated the idea of someone else being in control of his body. It brought up images that he was a ticking time bomb, that with a single word he could be triggered to hurt those around him…

“It’s all right, Bucky,” Steve soothed, somehow reading his mind. Steve was usually good at that, a result of nearly a lifetime taking care of each other. “The device is gone. Dr. Cho got it all. There were no trigger words.”

Bucky slowly felt himself relaxing, opening his eyes to give a small, grateful smile. He saw Steve relax as well, only… Bucky’s eyes narrowed. Steve still appeared stressed; guilt pinched in the corners of his eyes, the tick of his jaw. Steve was a shitty liar, at least when it came to Bucky. He was hiding something. Bucky locked eyes with his best friend. “Tell me.”

Steve looked surprise, trying but failing to act natural. “Tell you what?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, just continued holding the larger man’s eyes. Steve worried his lip. “Victor got away,” he finally admitted in a rush of air. “And we found no children there.”

Bucky pushed down the fear welling up. Victor was still loose. And he still had innocents with him. Innocents who would be subjected to the same brainwashing Natasha had faced. Clint had told him about the little girl Victor used to lure Clint, to drug him. That he suspected there were probably more. It made Bucky sick. But that wasn’t all of it. There was something lingering in Steve’s face, the blond shifting his weight under Bucky’s gaze. He studied his friend.

“That’s not what you’re afraid to tell me.” Steve looked away.

Bucky started working through what would be concerning Steve that he felt he had to hide from Bucky. What he would keep from him. “Is there something more to the implant,” he prodded. That had been a hot button in the past, Steve at times feeling as if he had to handle Bucky with kid gloves until Shuri reassured him there was no trace of the trigger words. Not that Bucky could blame him; it was a sticking point for Bucky, too. “Are there truly no effects? Did you get everything?” When he got no reaction, Bucky searched for what it would be a concern. “The team. I’m assuming you took the team. Is everyone all right?”

There! A twitch. Bucky went back over Steve’s words. “You said Tony is working in his lab, and the Hulk can’t get hurt. Is Natasha all right?” Natasha was at the center of everything, the one Victor had fixated on. But there was still no reaction as Steve reassured him that Natasha was fine.

And yet Bucky knew that was the right track, something wrong with the team, by the tic in Steve’s face. He had gone through all them, Steve was standing before him, and he could see no visible injury. Even if there was or had been the super soldier serum would have taken care of it. Bucky was missing something. Or, he realized with sinking dread, _someone_.

“What’s really going on with Barton?”

Steve winced and Bucky had to swallow the bile in his throat. “He uh, he hasn’t woken up yet, Buck.” Bucky could feel the walls closing in around him. “There was some head trauma but the docs said he should be fine!” Steve tried to get it all out in a rush, but Bucky couldn’t hear him.

Bucky felt the floor drop out from under him. Clint was still unconscious… Probably has been since Bucky… Since he… Bucky swallowed, repulsed at the hunk of metal attached to his body. By his hand… Bucky laid his head back on the bed, closing his eyes tight as he pressed the heels of his palms to his them, trying to push the memories, the nausea away. “She’s gonna kill me,” Bucky whispered.

“Who?”

“Natasha,” Bucky answered despondently. It was easier to focus on the deadly assassin than the other stuff. “I hurt Clint, almost killed him.”

“Natasha won’t kill you,” Steve chided, going back to the fabled white knight in shining armor that had always been hiding beneath the surface, where everyone played by the rules and everything would be right in the end. “No one is going to harm you. Everyone understands. You were being controlled by someone else, Natasha knows that. No one blames you.”

Bucky tuned out Steve’s rambling, his empty reassurances that what happened wasn’t his fault; that it could have happened to anyone else. All that echoed in his mind was that he failed Clint and Natasha was going to come after him. Natasha was going to hate him. Not that he could blame her, he hated himself, too. He deserved every bit of what the Black Widow had in store.

++++++++++++++++++++

Bucky was released a few hours later with the promise that he would take the rest of the night easy. He had no problem making such a promise, begging off Steve’s offer to get dinner in favor of retreating to his room. He knew Steve would never blame him for what happened, the punk had already demonstrated how certifiably insanely loyal he was to his childhood buddy, to the point of nearly losing everything. Steve wouldn’t turn away from him. However, Bucky didn’t want that right now, couldn’t fake acceptance of that easy trust after nearly killing one of their own… again.

Bucky spent the night in his darkened room, eating only to appease his hunger but taking no pleasure in anything. He could hear the painful wheezes as he forced air out of Clint’s lungs, feel the crunch as bones caved under his metal fist. The Avengers may have come for them, rescued them from Victor’s clutches, but Bucky was anything but free, locked in a prison of his own making. Somehow he managed to drift off, the night gave way to morning and with the cold light Bucky felt nothing but hollow.

Bucky did the same things he did the previous day. He stayed in his room, declined all Steve’s attempts to coax him to the common areas but acquiesced to Steve’s appeal that he stay and they hang out. It was easy camaraderie, pizza and TV, but nothing to quell the mounting dread of having to face the team… to face Natasha’s wrath and Clint’s betrayed looks.

Bruce popped by briefly, checking to see that Bucky was all right, but the visit was short, really only made to collect Steve to help him with something. Tony checked in via holoscreen. Not of his own volition, but — Bucky assumed — by Steve’s insistence to reassure Bucky he was fine by dialing the call for the tech genius. Bucky could see Tony’s annoyance, and although Bucky was certain it wasn’t directed at him but instead at his pigheaded friend he could hear in the background, the tension still remained. Bucky could feel the weighted looks, the words unsaid. He wished they would voice him. It couldn’t be any worse than what he called himself.

By the third day, Bucky was subjected to intense interrogation by the two scientists – which is what he wanted, but not quite right. The tone was serious but curious, the questions centered around the device, how it felt, not about his loyalties or whether he was fit to be a member of the team. Natasha noticeably did not appear, filling and relieving the dread buried in Bucky’s gut since Steve told him about Clint’s condition. He didn’t ask after his fellow prisoner and no one offered. Steve stopped by for a bit but most the day was spent fielding questions and battling his inner demons, the accusers in his mind.

That fourth day, Bucky felt ready to crawl the walls of his room with the guilt eating him up, the anxiety waiting for Natasha to confront him… He still hadn’t seen her, not on any of his quick ventures to the common areas or kitchen for food. He knew it was coming and it set him on edge. Steve was gone and Tony and Bruce were buried in something or other. With no mission or someone to distract him and the serum already erasing the effects of his kidnapping, Bucky felt the humming of barely restrained energy beneath his skin. The pent up emotions and fears urging him to move, to _do_ something. 

With restlessness crawling like ants over his skin, Bucky decided to go to the range to burn it out of him. Hiding in his room wouldn’t deter the Black Widow from seeking him out when she wanted. If Natasha was going to confront him about what he did to Clint, he could at least try to steady his nerves with some target practice.

Bucky spent a blissful hour at the range before the hair on the back of his neck prickled. The rhythmic jerk and recoil of the firearm combined with the scent of lead and gunpowder leaching some of the tension lacing his frame but not ridding all of it. He carefully thumbed at the safety before removing his eye and ear protection. Bucky quickly stripped the gun, delaying the inevitable, and laying it carefully on the wooden stand with a steadying breath.

“I know what you’re here to do,” Bucky said to the presence behind him, not turning to face – how could he ever face her again? – the assassin there. “And I deserve it.”

“What am I here to do?” Natasha’s voice gave nothing away.

Bucky’s eyes slid shut, resigned to his fate. It was nothing less than what he deserved. “Kill me.”

There was no response, no movement behind him and as the seconds dragged on, Bucky could no longer take the tension, not knowing. He gathered his courage, his dread, and faced Natasha Romanoff, Clint’s oldest partner. There was no anger in her face (which was deserved), no hatred (he hated himself, couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t). She was studying him.

“I am not here to kill you.”

“But I hurt Clint! It wasn’t the guards or Victor that hurt him, that put him in that hospital bed. They’re not the reason he is lying unconscious, I am. It was me!” Bucky took a deep breath, the guilt crushing his lungs. When he spoke again his words were nothing more than a whisper. “And even when he was down, when he was no longer conscious, I kept hitting him. It was like I never stopped being the Winter Soldier.”

“Was that you?”

“What?”

“Do you want to hurt Clint?”

“No!” The questioned sickened him, nearly knocking Bucky off his feet. “I could never – I never wanted to hurt Clint,” Bucky’s voice cracked and he had never felt so small. “But I did.”

“But not of your control. Not of your own freewill.”

Bucky shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It was still me.” What he didn’t say was, unlike his time as Winter Soldier, where he wasn’t aware of his actions, where the past will sometimes swim back in faded pictures and sounds, there was no relief in that cell. He was aware of every blow he rained down on their very human teammate. He was aware of every pained moan and gasp he elicited from Hawkeye.

“I – and you – know better than most about the destructive powers of Hydra and the Red Room. Their need to control people for their own gain. You were a pawn, nothing more. The actions were not of your choosing. No one could have stood up to their methods.” 

The words were nothing new, the same thing passed around when he began breaking from Hydra, when he began reclaiming and discovering what it meant to be Bucky. They did nothing then and did nothing now.

_”’M sorry, Bucky.” Clint’s slurred words echoed in Bucky’s ears, spit and blood dribbling down his lips. That blind faith Clint had that Bucky could ‘beat’ it, beat the chip implanted in his spine, the chip that put Clint at his mercy. Beat Victor and the Red Room at their own game._

Bucky closed his eyes, feeling traitorous tears start to form. “But it was still me, by my hands.”

Natasha was silent for a moment and he knew she was reading him, seeing the words he would not say. He didn’t know how she did it, how she managed to figure him out so easily. “Did Clint blame you?”

And there, with one strike, Natasha hit the nail on the head. He turned his face in shame.

_”Is s’okay.” Clint smiling around black eyes, propped against the stone wall to keep himself upright._

Like a lioness closing in on its kill, Natasha continued on. “See, I know Clint. Worked with that fool over a decade, even before entering the folds of Shield and the Avengers. I know how his mind works. Clint wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“He should have!” Bucky snapped. “He should very much blame me, curse me, hate me.” Natasha didn’t respond, letting Bucky work out the self-loathing in his veins. “Instead, you know what he did? When he could no longer stand, barely conscious, and more bruises than not, he was trying to reassure me. He told me it was all right. I mean who the fuck does that? What kind of brain-dead, self-sacrificing – ”

“Like I said, fool.”

Bucky let out a surprised huff of laughter.

“You want to know how he pulled me back from the ledge when I found myself free of the Red Room’s influence and angry with the world? He believed in me. He forgave me. Gave me a choice to do something more than just a weapon of destruction. Of doing good.”

Bucky met her eyes. According to the team, Natasha rarely spoke of her time in the Red Room or after she broke free. From what he heard, Natasha was a fearsome force, rivaling the Winter Soldier due to the sheer amount of her rage, cutting a bloody swath through the Eastern Bloc before tempering her bloodlust.

“You and I, we are not fools. We know how the world works. We know that evil sometimes win, that evil sometimes resides in us, will always reside in us.” She paused. “It is why we need fools, like Clint Barton. Like Steve Rogers,” she looked at him emphatically. “The fools are there to pull ourselves back from the abyss. And we, we are in charge of protecting them.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, how what happened was the complete opposite of protection when the Black Widow cut him off with a sharp look.

“Red Room wanted him dead. _Victor_ wanted him dead. He should have been dead before we made it to the cell. But you resisted as long as you could. Despite the pain it caused you. So maybe you failed a little, Clint got hurt. But he is alive and the Red Room never does something halfway. Clint was never meant to leave there alive. His neck should have been snapped before I reached the controls.” Bucky swallowed at the bluntness, the detached way Natasha spoke about her closest friend. He caught the spark of fire in her eyes at the mention of her old handler’s last command before it tempered.

“Trust me, I know.” 

The words were solid, not meaningless platitudes Steve offered him the past couple of days. Because the look Natasha gave him, their weight…

Bucky wasn’t too familiar with the Red Room, but from what Clint and the others said, it didn’t seem too different from Hydra. And Bucky knew Hydra. Failure was never tolerated. If it was Hydra, not the Red Room, if Hydra wanted Clint dead… Bucky let out a shaky breath at the images that line of thinking brought up. It didn’t make him feel better, but Natasha had a point. Bucky sometimes forgot what the Red Room did to people, how it trained its operatives from a very young age. If anyone knew the Red Room’s power, it was Natasha.

“This could just as easily have been my fault. It was my association to Clint that got him captured, my continued obsession taking down the Red Room and dragging Clint along for the slaughter. That is what brought him to Victor’s attention. Looking into Clint is probably what led to Victor’s discovery and subsequent desire of you. Do you blame me?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, of course not.” The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Clint would not blame me. And I do not blame myself. It took a while to get to that point, but some times things happen outside of our control. Instead of dwelling on it, I choose to focus on what I can do. What I can change.”

There were a lot of things to consider, lot of things Natasha gave him to think about but Bucky didn’t know where to start. “What do I do now?” He finally settled on asking, feeling broken despite his best attempts.

“Help him. Be there for him. Do better.”

There was no absolution in those words – it wasn’t Natasha’s to give anyway – no empty promises, but a command. A directive. Something he _could_ do, however minor, to atone for his sins. Bucky would gladly spend the rest of his life doing it, making up for every bit of harm he caused at Hydra’s command. Eying Natasha, reflecting on the similarity of their forced servitude, he wondered if simply trying to “do better” would be enough.

Natasha pretended to flick dust off her clothes, easing the tension with a dismissive sniff. “I am going to visit him. Clint has finally woken up and he cannot complain and moan about doctor’s orders without an audience.” She flashed him a wicked smile. “And I enjoy threatening him to obey. I could always use the company, and Clint would appreciate a sympathetic ear in response to my approach.”

Bucky still wasn’t ready to see Clint, to face the repercussions of his actions in that cold cell, but Natasha’s words echoed in his mind. _Do better. Be there for him._ It was the least he could do.

Bucky hesitated before nodding. He could do this. And it would be better to do it with Natasha. She was the only one on the team who got him. And if Natasha was willing to invite him, then it couldn’t be so bad to finally face Clint. Bucky supposed he could start ‘doing better’ by facing the man he nearly killed.


End file.
